


Hellbent

by jaylene



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: 8 Years Post-Ending, But at Least They're Cute, Complicated Relationships, F/M, Fluff, Gender neutral pronouns for reader, M/M, Magic, Messing Around with RESETS and Timelines, Mystery, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Second Person, Pining, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route, Reader Is Not Frisk, Reader is on a Mission, Reader-Insert, Reverse Harem, Somewhat as Obstacles to That Mission, The Boys are...Related to That Mission, Therapy Positive, encounters, probably some angst too, void magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2020-12-27 10:01:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 49,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21116912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaylene/pseuds/jaylene
Summary: You're taking a break from your hectic life, enjoying the last few weeks with your sister before she goes off to college. Only, she disappears from your side, leaving you lost and bereft......And hellbent on doing whatever is necessary to get her back.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vesperchan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vesperchan/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Bones, Picked Clean](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11692404) by [lulu-writes (luluwrites)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/luluwrites/pseuds/lulu-writes). 

You turn your face up into the sun, closing your eyes. It beats down over you, warm and heady. This is absolute bliss.

“Y/N, c’mon!”

You blink, turning back to your sister. “What is it, peanut?”

Your sister cocks her hip, pouting slightly. “You aren’t sticking me with the duty of pitching the tent alone!”

“Would I do that?” you ask, fighting the smirk.

“ _ Yes _ ,” your sister says emphatically. “That’s what you did last time.”

“But the time before that I took care of the sleeping arrangements,” you argue.

Your sister snorts, crossing her arms. “That was an AirBnB.”

You shrug. “Still counts.”

She blows out her cheeks, leg twitching like she wants to stamp her foot. You bite your lip to keep from grinning, turning away from the absolutely stunning view. “Alright, alright. You win. You’re just too  _ in-tents _ for me.”

Her lips twitch but she holds onto her scowl valiantly. “I’m not so sure about that, your lackadaisical behavior is just making me  _ tents _ .”

You snort, ruffling her hair as you pass. “That doesn’t count, peanut; you’re just reusing my material.”

“Hey you laughed!” she replies, fixing her hair. “And besides, your policy is  _ s’more _ humor the better, right?”

You laugh outright, even as you move back to your backpacks and camping equipment. “Well, you’ve got me pegged. So, how are you enjoying the trip so far?”

“It’s amazing,” she effuses, going to stand on the perch you were on just moments ago. Knowing this is her trip, a celebration of her, you choose not to say anything, just pulling the tent out of storage. “I had no idea that Grandma owned land as beautiful as this; I would’ve visited sooner.”

“Well, to be fair, I doubt she’s ever been up this far herself,” you reply. “Grandma wasn’t much for hiking; one mile versus thirteen, it’s all the same to her.”

You and your sister were taking a road trip together, your last and grandest of all before she goes off to college. In fact, that is the dual purpose of the trip, adventuring together and getting her moved to school. Though it certainly makes the road trip more exciting, you wish she wasn’t moving nearly entirely across the country; it would make it so hard to see each other. Still, you’re making the best of it, taking off a full month from your job in the lab to see this through. You’re near the very beginning of your trip, a few days into the travel and tourism that you can do close to home.

“Maybe she and Grandpa came up here when they were younger,” your sister says optimistically. “Made a romantic getaway of it.”

Your smile softens; your sister’s KINDNESS shines through in everything she says and does. “I’m sure they did.”

She turns to you, jumping when she realizes that you’re already halfway through putting up the tent. “Hey!” she exclaims, scrambling down from the rock. “You should’ve told me you were getting started.”

You sniff piously at her, catching an arm around her neck to draw her close. “There’s just no pleasing you is there, Your Majesty?”

“Well, maybe if you pitched the tent correctly,” she replies, nudging you aside with her elbow.

Your faux protests soon turn to giggles as the two of you set about your task quickly and effectively. You sit back on your heels when it is complete, satisfied in a task well done. Your eyes drift skyward and you purse your lips, filtering through fuzzy memories.

“Want to go on a hike before dinner? If I remember correctly, there’s a small waterfall about two miles from here,” you say, caught up in gossamer strand memories of wandering these forests with cousins without a care in the world. 

You pull out the map you brought with you from home. There are a littering of hand-drawn landmarks, added to the map meticulously by your Grandma as she consulted the multiple discoveries written out by you and your cousins so long ago. These are memories that you cherish and you only wish your sister had a chance to form some of them herself.

Well, no time like the present.

“Absolutely!” she replies, hopping to her feet and digging through her pack. “Is there a pool of water? Should I put on my swimsuit? Is it too cold, do you think?”

“Whoa there, slow your roll, kid,” you say, laughing. “I don’t think it’d be the best idea to go full-on swimming; it’s supposed to get pretty cold as the sun sets tonight. Besides, from what I remember, the water isn’t deep here. When I was a kid, it was up to my thighs I think? So shorts and water shoes will be perfect.”

“Give me a moment,” your sister says. “And then we can go.”

You stifle a fond snort, meandering over to the large rock once more. You know your sister all too well; it’ll take her at least ten minutes. If you hadn’t seen her SOUL before, you’d be tempted to guess it to be a bright cyan blue for PATIENCE. She always moves at her own pace. 

You shake your head, pulling out your phone and headphones. You have no service out here, but you can still play your downloaded music. You spend the next twelve minutes seated on the warm rock, listening to music as you stare out at the rolling mountains lined in ancient trees.

There is something so peaceful about this place; you feel your anxieties seep away from you. When your sister places a hand on your shoulder, you lay out on the rock, staring up at her with a smile.

“Ready?” you ask.

“Whenever you are,” she replies.

The two of you set out, making sure to carry all of your food items with you. They are vacuum-sealed and placed into a second bag as a precautionary measure, but neither of you wish to tempt fate. Bears are unlikely to attack you, but leaving food at your makeshift campground may be too much temptation for them to ignore.

“You excited to meet your roommate in person?” you ask, trying to make conversation after several minutes go by.

Your sister hums. “I am! We share a lot of interests, though I think she’s more athletic than I am. Did you know that she’s a master at ultimate frisbee? She started a league at her high school and she’s planning on leading a team at the university.”

“Maybe you could join as well,” you say.

“Maybe,” she replies with a nervous smile. “You know I’m not much for sports.”

“Well, maybe Dee-O-Gee can give you some pointers,” you say. “How does she feel about having a human roommate?”

“She’s excited and a bit anxious,” your sister says. “She and I get along so far; her tail is always wagging in our video chats, but I know she’s a little apprehensive about university life in general.”

“Well, it is a long way away from New Home,” you say evenly. It’s been nearly eight years since monsters first surfaced not too far from your own hometown, settling into the sleepy mountains that surround Mt. Ebbot. Their central city, New Home, is just shy of a two hour drive from where you currently are. You find monster naming conventions charming; who else would think to name a city New Home? There’s something...refreshing about that sort of straightforwardness. “Most monsters tend to stick close to New Home; I didn’t know any would venture as far as you’re going.”

“From what Dee-O-Gee says, a lot of the younger monsters are more restless and adventurous; they want to explore the world,” your sister says. “And now that tensions have settled…”

“Well, sounds like you and Dee-O-Gee have that in common too,” you say with a smile, catching your sister around the shoulders for a quick squeeze before continuing on. “It’ll be an adventure for you both.”

Your sister gives you a grateful smile and you lapse into silence as you continue your trek toward the waterfall. Neither of you really mind the quiet, absorbing the nature and ambient noises that surround you on all sides. Something in you demands that you commit this to memory, the sticky humidity, the buzz of cicadas, and your sister walking alongside you with a peaceful if somewhat absentminded expression. Knowing the limited time you have left with her, you do so, wishing this moment could stretch on without end.

Alas, in no time at all you hear the rush of running water and your sister’s expression lights up as she darts off ahead in pursuit of the sound. “C’mon, c’mon!” she says, grinning widely.

You pick up your pace, running after her for a brief time before the waterfall is revealed to you both. Your steps slow as you take it in; it is smaller than you remembered it being, but then again, you were half the height you currently are when last you visited. The waterfall cascades down the surface of a sheer, steep rock face, water from snow melt higher up. Your sister is already merrily splashing through the shallow pool, shrieking both in joy and, you suspect, at the chill of the water.

“C’mon, Y/N!” she says, turning back to you. “It looks like there’s an alcove behind the waterfall.”

“Is there?” you say, amused. From what you remember, the alcove isn’t much, just a dry spot where you and a couple of your cousins could sit and watch the waterfall from the other side. “Well, if you insist--”

Your words cut off abruptly as  _ something _ rattles through you, nearly throwing you off your feet as it leaves your body keyed up and tingling. It isn’t an earthquake; you’ve been in several of those and they aren’t common to this region. No, you recognize it as something similar to the handful of friendly Encounters you’ve had.

Magic.

You stumble back, barely keeping your balance as your SOUL throbs, squeezing as it is pulled and tugged. It’s almost like the sensation of being pulled into an Encounter, but so much more forceful and unrelenting. You don’t know what is happening, what is going on, but you can feel the foreign magic coating you and you feel so cold--you can’t  _ breathe _ \--that you do the only thing you can think to do.

You resist.

The magic subsides just as quickly as it started and you close your eyes, inhaling shakily as you rub a hand over your chest. “Any clue as to what the hell that was, peanut?” you ask, trying to calm your racing heart and doubtless racing SOUL.

No response.

You open your eyes, stiffening as you realize that you can no longer see your sister. “Peanut?” you call cautiously, turning around to survey the entire area. “You alright, kid?”

Still nothing.

Swallowing against the fear that rises in your throat like bile, you hurriedly splash your way over to where she was standing just moments ago. The only sign that she had been there is the bandana she’d been wearing, now floating in the water. You pick it up, clinging to it tightly.

“Peanut,” you try again, voice rising and edged in panic. You call again and again, nearly screaming at this point, as you search around for any sign of, well, anyone really. “Peanut!”

But nobody came.


	2. Chapter 2

You exhale heavily through your teeth, keeping a tight rein on your emotions. You keep walking almost mechanically, feeling almost separate from your body. Panic hems you in on all sides, threatening to drag you under. You can’t let it out, not yet. Not until you get your sister back. 

Falling apart won’t help anyone--not you and certainly not your sister.

_ Check for phone signal. Walk back to camp. Pack up camp. Check for phone signal. Look at the map. Check for phone signal. Figure out closest location. _

You keep repeating your next steps to yourself as your feet eat up the distance between the waterfall and your campsite, finding some solace in the clear instructions you give yourself. It’s better than your once-common habit of rumination, lingering on negative thoughts until you think yourself to pieces. You have your tasks. You’ll get your sister back. You’re following protocol for someone going missing in the mountains; you’ll be able to report to the proper authorities in a couple of hours.

Still, in your heart of hearts-- your SOUL? \--you know it’s futile.

Whatever happened to your sister; it wasn’t your average reason for a disappearance.

Whatever it was, it involves magic and, in your experience, magic  _ always _ complicates things.

Well, whatever the case, you will deal with it as it comes. First, you have to take the necessary, non-magic precautions.

You’ll do whatever it takes to get your sister back.

_ Walk back to camp. Check for phone signal. Pack up camp… _

You pass your brisk walk this way, muttering your tasks to yourself under your breath when bad thoughts begin to encroach. You cannot help the disappointment that catches the breath in your chest as you come back upon your camp, as empty as you left it. You swallow back the sting of tears and quickly and methodically break down the tent and roll up your sleeping bags after checking your phone and confirming a lack of signal.

You pause for a moment, glancing down at your watch. You have another hour of solid daylight, followed by a hazy forty-five minutes or so of dusk. You won’t be able to make it back to the trail head before nightfall and, truthfully, you don’t want to.

You press your hands to your closed eyes,  _ hard _ , thinking for a moment. If your sister is still in the woods, there are a couple of avenues she may take. She has a map on her and a compass; her sense of direction has always been better than yours. You’ve discussed contingencies should you get separated. She is supposed to go to the nearest official landmark, be it a ranger outpost or the trail head.

However, knowing your sister, the odds are good that she would come back here.

She wouldn’t want you to be alone.

You shove that thought away, unwilling to enter that downward spiral.

You pull out your map, checking the locations around you. As you thought, there’s a small ranger tower posted about six miles northwest of you. It’s a little out of the way from the trailhead, but it’s much closer. Even if the tower doesn’t have access to a phone signal, they should at least have a radio you can call out on. And truth be told, you want contact with someone, at least to discuss what the hell happened out here.

Hopefully, that someone will be your sister.

And, if that fails to pan out, you will go back to the trailhead at first light and contact the local authorities.

You pull out your journal, scrawling a legible if somewhat shaky message of your plan, pinning it under a rock. You look at the flimsy sheet for a moment, deliberating. You don’t have much daylight left to get to the tower, but you also don’t want to risk the paper getting lost or overlooked.

You sigh, grabbing up a fallen branch and gouging out a rudimentary sketch of a tower in the deep red clay of the ground. Beside it, you draw a sunrise, followed by an approximation of the sign at the trailhead. You examine your work, shaking your head. It isn’t your best work, but it is understandable to you and, hopefully, to your sister.

You’ve lost about twenty-five minutes in total since arriving so you take one more look at the site, barely able to remember how relaxed you felt a handful of hours ago, before setting off in the direction of the ranger tower.

You make it five and a half miles without incident. Night has officially fallen and you are a bit of a sweaty mess; you hadn’t planned for this much hiking today and you are carrying more than you expected. You’ve been tempted to put on your headphones if only to drown out your own thoughts, but you can’t risk missing someone calling out to you. The chances are slim to none, but you won’t risk it.

You have your industrial flashlight out and your phone charging on your extra battery pack as you keep a wary eye on it just in case you manage to step into a pocket of forest with coverage. So far, no luck.

You turn your eyes skyward for a moment, taking in the stars twinkling so cold and distantly above you. Something about that, maybe the idea that the stars are silent, passive observers of your plight, settles you.

You aren’t alone in the world, even if you’re alone in this moment.

The sentiment is nice and all, but it doesn’t prevent you from pitching forward, releasing an unbecoming squawk as you trip over something. Your arms windmill as you overcorrect, but you manage to right yourself. You thank the stars for the sturdy hiking boots you’re wearing; they’re probably the only thing preventing you from twisting an ankle.

You swing your flashlight around, trying to determine what the hell you tripped over.

A hiking pack lies a few feet behind you, knocked over and items spilling forth. You frown, allowing your flashlight and gaze to rove your surroundings. Other than the wind that shakes the lighter branches of some trees, there is no movement or any sign of life.

“Hello?” you call. “Anyone there?”

You count a few beats in the ensuing silence, waiting for a response.

You don’t receive one.

“Huh,” you say, keeping an ear to anything that isn’t part of the natural wildlife as you crouch by the pack.

It’s a light pack, small. The only compartment is open and, from what you can see, your unexpected kick/trip knocked most of the contents free. You doubt its owner was planning on camping overnight; there is no sleeping bag or change of clothes and the only food items you see are a couple of Clif bars and a half-eaten bag of granola. You eye the other contents, mindful to keep from rifling among the things. You feel a bit uncomfortable going through someone else’s things like this, but they are out in the open…

There’s a map, a couple of brochures for monster-themed tourist attractions in a couple towns over from here, a small flashlight, a pocket knife that, from its handle, you’d guess is pretty dull, a set of nondescript car keys which have a tag attached to them detailing a rental company, and a wallet.

You linger on the last, turning your gaze over the area again. You  _ really _ don’t want to get into someone else’s private property, but you doubt they left it behind here willingly. From what you can gather, this person isn’t local, is most likely human, and is not used to hiking, at least up in the mountains. 

You stand, circling the area thoroughly. You don’t see any signs of a struggle...is it possible this person was caught up in the same nonsense as your sister?

Your tremulous thought solidifies as you come across an item several yards away from the pack. That item is a single running shoe, lying on its side. There’s no sign of a fight or a flight here and you strongly doubt someone would walk away willingly in only one shoe in these forests.

“Hell,” you murmur to yourself, gingerly moving back to the upended pack. With only the slightest hesitation, you pick up the wallet, flipping it open. “Florence Taylor,” you say, eyeing the photograph of the human man. He’s in his mid-thirties and, as you thought, he’s from out of state. “Well Florence, I hope you’re well, wherever you are.” He has a kind looking face and your heart twists. “If you’re with my sister, keep her company until I can get there.”

You tuck the wallet into your own pack, planning to hand it over at the ranger station. The rest you leave, knowing it’s better to leave it undisturbed as best you can. The rangers can call the police in to investigate it, in case the worst is true.

In case, this--these disappearances are a crime.

And even if they are not, it’ll be a good place for the investigations to start. You hope that the location so close to the ranger tower will deter any wildlife from approaching and messing with the scene, but there are no guarantees.

You leave the site weighed down by more than a stranger’s wallet, mind racing to explain whatever happened. These thoughts are scattered and wild, unwilling to be tamed into something coherent at the moment. You let them run rampant for the final half mile of travel, sagging in relief as you see the rickety ranger tower appear before you.

The lights within beckon you forward and you pick up your pace, nearly flat-out running the last hundred yards to the spindly building. You remember being out this way before long ago and the wood and metal contraption of a tower looks much the same as it once did. It tickles your childhood fancy; once, you imagined this tower as Baba Yaga’s hut, its gangling legs ready to shake off the earth hosting them to move freely. A half smile tugs your lips for a moment, nostalgia intruding before reality settles once more.

You climb the stairs, ignoring the way they creak ominously, climbing to the top. This tower isn’t really utilized by the public from what you remember; rangers are posted here during the heat of the summer to keep an eye out for forest fires. Considering that you’re nearly at the height of the season, you are certain that a ranger will be here.

You peek in through the large glass windows. The lights are on low and the station certainly seems occupied considering the rumpled bed sheets, but you do not see anyone.

You frown, knocking on the door.

No answer.

You keep trying for ten minutes, knocks becoming more frantic as you go. You hiss out an expletive as you come to terms with the truth.

Nobody is here.

You try the handle of the door.

It  _ gives _ .

You swallow as the door swings open, peeking inside. The area looks well lived in, a bit messy too, with rumpled clothes on the ground and an overflowing garbage can. There’s a smell like something burning, masked somewhat by the couple of lit candles. With lit candles, the ranger has to be somewhere nearby.

Right? 

“Hello?” you call loudly. “Hello?”

When several minutes pass without response, you tentatively step inside. “I’m sorry for coming in,” you say, more to yourself than anyone else. You don’t feel comfortable intruding on someone else’s property like this. “It’s just...well, there’s something strange going on out in the forest. My guess is something magic. There are a couple of missing humans…”

You trail off as you round the counter of the kitchenette. The floor is covered in a dark, sticky stain and you see the shattered pieces of a mug among the liquid.

Coffee.

“Hell,” you mutter, pinching the bridge of your nose. 

You turn your gaze to the candles, realizing just how far down the wicks have burned. You follow the acrid scent of burnt material to the oven, turning the knob off. Raising one arm to cover your mouth, you throw open the oven, closing your eyes against the stinging black smoke that billows forth. You cough, turning and opening a couple of the windows.

You lean out the window, looking out onto the night sky. You pull out your phone, unsurprised to see that you still have no service. You grit your teeth, refusing to fall apart yet.

You can search the tower for a radio and try to use it, though you aren’t confident in your abilities. You’d been banking on the ranger making the call but needs must. You glance back at the oven, grabbing a dishcloth and pulling out a tray. You think that the charcoaled pieces on the tray were once bread, maybe four or five hours ago. Your lips twist and you gingerly place the tray in the sink.

Based on a few context clues, your best guess is that whatever happened to your sister and to Florence happened to the ranger here too. You have no idea why you’ve been spared and your thoughts threaten to spiral into paranoia.

Is there anyone left in the forest?

In the world?

Are you the only person left?

Is your sister safe?

You cannot block these intruding thoughts and questions, but you decide to start looking for the radio. You pick through a couple of things before coming across it on the desk. It’s a huge system and your heart sinks, knowing that your knowledge of technology does not extend to technology from before you were born. This device?

You’d guess it’s been around for at least fifty years, probably more.

You fiddle with a few of the switches, but it’s futile. You lean back, looking up at the bulletin board above the desk. There’s pamphlets, a couple of drawings that appear to be in a child’s hand, and a littering of missing posters. 

You sway forward, eyes darting over the pictures and text beneath them. There are about ten posters in all. Most of the posters are older, from six or so months ago. One missing poster you recognize from the local news; a tourist who got off the trail and ended up missing for two days before being discovered. You frown. That case was solved months ago.

The fresher missing posters catch your interest most of all. There are five in all from the past three months, disappearances concentrated in this area. You haven’t seen anything about the disappearances in the news or even heard whispers of it from your friends in the hiking community; you doubt you would’ve brought your sister out here if you had. 

Two posters stand out in that they depict two humans who disappeared from this mountain at the same time seven weeks ago under abrupt and mysterious circumstances. Based on the hometowns of both individuals, you doubt they were here together.

You reach up, untacking the five recent posters from the board and smoothing your fingers over the pictures. You tuck them away in your journal, hoping that they won’t come in handy later. Their disappearances seem too similar to be coincidental, but you  _ really  _ hope this isn’t a pattern.

You eye the board again, plucking up the keys. You head back to the door, blowing out the candles along the way and turning out the lights. You shut the door and lock it behind you, placing the keys into your pack. You’ll turn everything over to the police tomorrow when you exit the trailhead, but you don’t think it’s safe to leave the building unlocked.

You climb down from the tower, deciding to set up camp here. You want to stay close to the tower, just in case someone does come by, but you don’t feel comfortable sleeping in a stranger’s home. Besides, you have the means to take care of yourself. You pitch the tent and unroll your sleeping bag quickly, before rifling through your pack for dinner. You grab an energy bar and some chips, knowing that your sister would scold you for your paltry dinner, but she isn’t here to get onto you.

Your spirit falls some and you finish eating mechanically. You scroll through your music library on your phone, willing to waste the battery a bit for your own comfort. You put on your headphones and get to your feet, deciding to go collect Florence’s belongings. You don’t want to leave them out overnight and you can take pictures of the set-up for the police. It might not be the best method, but you feel the need to do something.

You heft your flashlight, orienting yourself before you set off in the direction of Florence’s disappearance.

_ CRACK _ .

You freeze at the sound of a branch breaking, pulling out your headphones and whipping your eyes toward the sound. In the darkness, you see two pinpricks of glowing red.

Before you can even consider adjusting your flashlight, the hairs on your arms and neck stand on end as magic crackles in the air. You skip backwards as a glowing red bone strikes the ground before you.

A warning shot.

Your jaw firms and you adjust your grip on your industrial flashlight, handling it with both hands. “You, uh, got a  _ bone  _ to pick with me, friend?”

There’s a long, pointed pause and you can’t really make out the monster other than their silhouette considering the way you’re gripping your flashlight like a weapon.

Then, you hear a low, raspy laugh. “well, what `bout you,  _ slugger _ ?” the monster says, voice deep and rough. It sounds distinctly amused. “ya got a  _ flashlight _ to pick with me, pal?”


	3. Chapter 3

The tension in your shoulders eases a bit at the monster’s wisecracking, though you don’t loosen your grip on your flashlight. “You planning on pulling me into an Encounter or something?”

The monster is silent for several moments, the air still heavy with their magic. “encounters, huh? how’s a human like ya know the lingo of monsters?” You remain silent, puzzled by the question. The monster’s magic recedes and the hairs at the nape of your neck finally settle. “nah, i’m not planning nothing right now. you gonna practice your swing on me?”

“Jury’s still out,” you reply, even as you adjust your stance to something much less defensive. You swing the flashlight around, catching sight of the monster for the first time. You blink in surprise. “Huh.”

You’ve seen skeleton monsters before, one of them works in a different department on your campus. And who can possibly forget the mascot for all monsters? Still, it’s a bit spooky to come across one alone in the woods at night. This particular skeleton has bright red eyelights in their sockets, which shrink to pinpricks beneath the glare of your flashlight. They’re short, shorter than you and solidly built, dressed in an oversized coat with a fluffy hood that makes you wonder how they aren’t experiencing heat stroke right now. Their mouth is stretched wide in an easy grin full of sharp teeth and the light glints off a single gold tooth.

“what’s the matter, kid? never seen a walking, talking skeleton before?” they ask, stepping forward.

“I have,” you reply absently, missing their sharp look. “Just realizing how appropriate the ‘bone to pick’ line was, that’s all.”

They snort, shaking their head. “where are my manners?” they ask, striding forward until they stand right before you. “name’s sans. sans the skeleton.”

You introduce yourself in turn, shaking their hand. It calms something in you to see someone else out here. You’d half believed yourself to be all alone in the world and company is something you sorely need. You keep hold of their hand, desperately hoping to get some answers. “Have you seen a human girl?” you ask. “Her hair is like mine but longer, she’s about yea-high--” Your mind is crowded with so many questions you want to ask and it is so hard to latch onto a single train of thought. Monsters don’t usually care much about physical appearances,  _ especially _ in humans because they look so similar compared to the variety of monsters; no, monsters pay attention to-- “Her SOUL is the purest green I’ve ever seen. Absolutely vibrant. I’ve been told that it can be a bit overwhelming for some monsters. Please, have you seen her?”

Sans tilts their head, expression going bemused for a moment at the anguish in your voice. “nah, kid, sorry. haven’t seen a human in a good four or five years. `til ya showed up, breaking my streak.”

“Five years?” you ask, stunned. “Have you been living--” You stop, cutting yourself off. There’s no reason to be rude. “Well, did you feel that...event earlier? There was some sort of disruption earlier and my sister…” Your throat tightens and eyes sting as you fight to say it aloud for the first time. “My sister disappeared in the aftermath.”

There’s a slight pressure on the hand you hadn’t yet pulled away from Sans and you suddenly realize that Sans is squeezing it with an awkward expression on their face. You give Sans a watery smile, appreciating the unexpected comfort. “i didn’t feel anything. my brother didn’t either, though he is patrolling the forest right now.”

“Your brother?” you ask, giving Sans’ hand an appreciative pat as you pull yours away. “You live here in the forest?”

“yeah, papyrus. we’re brothers and he’s the captain of the guard,” Sans says, smile gentling. “he’s the greatest.”

You stare at him for a long moment, mind faltering at the inconsistent information. You may not have met him, but you  _ know _ that the monster mascot is a skeleton named Papyrus, you’ve seen his face plastered across the television, internet, and many a glorious meme. And Undyne is the Captain of the Royal Guard, though the title is more decorative now that monster-kind has settled in among the humans. Is Papyrus a common skeleton name? Is there another Guard, perhaps one for the few monsters who choose a more secluded way of life?

Finally, you realize Sans is watching you with a wary look and you startle, shaking away the errant thoughts. Now isn’t the time to pick apart everything he says. No, you need to take everything he says for face value at the moment; you’re just glad for the company.

You can’t handle being left alone with only your thoughts as a companion.

“He does sound great,” you reply evenly, tucking your hands in your pockets. “I was headed to investigate and clean up an area about half a mile from here. Would you like to join me?”

“hell, why not? s’not like i got anything better to do,” Sans says, falling into step alongside you.

You notice that his eyes are focused on the sky for most of the walk and your smile takes on a melancholy note. Most monsters that you know adore the sky and it hurts something in you to know that they were deprived of it for so long while in the Underground. You don’t really try to make conversation, respecting Sans’ utter absorption with the stars above you. You’re just glad for his presence, the solid body and soft footsteps enough to remind you that you are not alone in the world.

Admittedly, you are more than a little impressed at how easily Sans navigates the landscape, despite keeping his eye sockets trained far above the ground.

“gorgeous,” Sans murmurs, almost under his breath.

“It is,” you agree softly, blinking as Sans jerks violently. Had he  _ forgotten _ you were there? He glances at you and you’re surprised to see a hint of glowing red across his cheekbones. Huh. You weren’t aware skeletons could blush. You split your gaze between the sky and the ground, unwilling to risk a twisted ankle. “I’m always glad to get out of the city for a bit. The stars here are much clearer. After all, star-gazing is  _ Sirius _ business.”

“yeah?” he asks, chucking as his shoulders relax.

“Yeah,” you say. “See that cluster there?” You point it out. “Humans call it the Big Dipper; it’s a part of Ursa Major, the Big Bear.” You huff a laugh. “Monsters have taken to calling it River Person’s Oar, which I think is more accurate.”

“what are ya talking `bout? mon--” Sans begins, a confused look on his face.

“It’s still here,” you say in relief, hurrying forward to Florence Taylor’s strewn belongings. “Thank goodness.”

You pull out your phone, turning on the flash and hoping the photo quality is enough for police as you start taking pictures.

“SANS!” You jolt, caught unawares by the absolute bellow of a voice. “SANS, QUIT BOONDOGGLING ABOUT YOU LAZYBONES! WE HAVE MUCH TERRITORY WE MUST EXPLORE AND SECURE HERE ON THE SURFACE! WE CAN’T HAVE THOSE GOOD FOR NOTHING MUTTS EDGING IN ON OUR TERRITORY.” 

You turn, phone still raised, and catch sight of another skeleton who strides into the clearing with quite a bit of pomp and circumstance. This skeleton is tall, a good head taller than you are, and bedecked in a uniform of black and red. They stand ramrod straight, a direct contrast to Sans’ slouch. There is a deep scar down one eye socket and your own eyes linger there, wondering what type of injury could cause such a lasting mark on a monster. As you’re contemplating this, the monster’s red eyelights snap to meet your gaze.

“SANS…”

“yeah boss?”

“SANS, OH MY GOD. IS THAT…A HUMAN?”

“uh...actually, i think that’s a backpack.”

“OH.”

“hey boss, what’s that in front of the backpack?”

“OH MY GOD. IS THAT...A HUMAN?”

You snort, unable to help it. “Yes, ‘that’ is,” you say, smiling at the skeletons. Where Sans was so stiff and distant earlier, he is now relaxed and content. If you had to guess, this must be-- “You’re Papyrus, yes?”

The skeleton straightens even further beneath your scrutiny, placing a hand to his hip. “YES, I-I SUPPOSE THE FEATS OF THE GREAT AND TERRIBLE PAPYRUS HAVE SPREAD EVEN IN MY SHORT TIME ON THE SURFACE.” Papyrus’ face glows a soft red, his smile wide and happy. “HUMAN! YOU MAY APPROACH.”

You glance at Sans for a moment, smile growing. You do as Papyrus requested(?)/demanded, introducing yourself as you do so. “It is good to meet you Papyrus.”

“O-OF COURSE IT IS!” he says. “IT IS A PLEASURE TO MEET YOU TOO, HUMAN.”

You grin at his loud enthusiasm. Though his strength of his voice is a bit overwhelming, you find that you don’t mind it, not really. “I was wondering if you happened to encounter a human girl during your patrol. My sister. She has the greenest SOUL I’ve seen. She, uh, disappeared a handful of hours ago during a strange surge...I’ve been looking for her ever since.” You glance down and away, eyes skirting back to the backpack. “I think that others have disappeared too.” You meet Sans’ quizzical eyelights. “I came across Florence Taylor’s abandoned belongings and it’s possible that the forest ranger also disappeared.”

“I AM...SORRY HUMAN,” Papyrus says. “I HAVE NOT SEEN A HUMAN LIKE YOU ARE DESCRIBING.” He eyes you for a moment, coughing into his glove. “IT IS IMPRESSIVE THOUGH, THAT YOUR SISTER HAS A GREEN SOUL. GREEN SOULS ARE FEW AND FAR BETWEEN AMONG HUMANS.”

You cock your head. KINDNESS isn’t truly all that uncommon among humans, but maybe Papyrus hasn’t come across the right types of humans. Regardless, you appreciate the attempt to cheer you up. “That’s alright, Papyrus. I don’t think that she’s still here in the forest, but I can’t help but hope…” You shake your head, smiling at Papyrus. “Well, thank you for your time.”

“YOU’RE WELCOME!” Papyrus says, striking another pose. “THE GREAT AND TERRIBLE PAPYRUS IS GRACIOUS TO THOSE BENEATH HIS PROTECTION!”

Sans startles. “boss?”

“AFTER ALL, THIS IS NOW OUR TERRITORY ON THE SURFACE!” Papyrus says, ignoring his brother’s incredulous look. “WE MAY BE NEW, BUT WE STAKE OUR CLAIM AND WE WILL PROTECT IT.” He pauses, glancing at you before clearing his throat. “AND. AS THE FIRST HUMAN WE HAVE ENCOUNTERED ON THE SURFACE, YOU ARE NOW UNDER OUR PROTECTION!”

“I’m sorry, what?” you ask.

“hey, boss is offering ya a good deal here,” Sans says, looking a bit dumbstruck. “ya should take it.”

“No, not that,” you say, waving away Sans’ warning comment. “What do you mean I’m the first human you’ve encountered on the Surface?”

“well, kid, what’d ya expect? we’ve only been here for a couple of hours.”

“Fuck,” you mutter. “Fuck!”


	4. Chapter 4

“You’ve only just now arrived on the Surface?” you ask, pressing your fingers to your temples. “ _ Today _ ?”

“yeah.”

“HUMAN ARE YOU WELL? YOUR FACE IS RAPIDLY LOSING COLOR.”

You exhale, calming your wild thoughts. “Most monsters surfaced eight years ago,” you say. “What happened to you both? Were you trapped Underground? Did you find another exit? All the other monster emerged in New Home a few hours away from here.”

Sans shrugs. “listen kid, we didn’t really emerge here or anything. one moment we were in the underground and the next we were standing on the surface.” His voice is wistful and your heart aches at the underlying pain.

“What time would you say that was?” you ask, a sinking feeling in your gut. At least two, maybe three, humans disappearing just as two monsters appear? You don’t believe in coincidences. “When you realized you were on the Surface?”

“I REALIZED IT RIGHT AWAY, HUMAN. THE SCENT OF MANGY CURS DISSIPATED,” Papyrus pauses, turning his gaze up to the sky. “AND WE WERE BATHED IN THE LIGHT OF THE SETTING SUN.” The gentleness disappears from his eyelights as he laughs maniacally. “TRULY, THE ONLY APPROPRIATE SETTING FOR THE GREAT AND TERRIBLE PAPYRUS TO MAKE HIS ENTRANCE!”

“kid?” Sans says, eyelights trained on you. “you good?”

You’re not good. You’re not good at all. Whatever the hell happened earlier to your sister, these monsters were caught up in as well.

Magic. 

It had to be magic. 

You thought it might be, but it’s something else entirely to have it confirmed like this. Magic…magic complicates things. It makes things more difficult on your end as well. You can’t bring your sister’s disappearance to the police or the rangers; at least, not at first. It’s doubtful that they will have the resources on hand to handle the necessary magic investigation; only the police forces back in New Home and immediately surrounding towns deal with magic on a regular basis. 

And there’s the issue too of the impact that a major magic investigation may have on human/monster relations. Human/monster relations got off to a bumpy start when monsters first came to the Surface, but, with a persuasive ambassador like Frisk, and determined, kind-hearted citizens on both sides, relations were thriving. Most people in this mountain region were accepting of monsters and they’d been integrated on all levels of life. You knew a few human/monster couples even. However, just because the locals were accepting, it did not mean everyone else was. 

Many humans traveled to New Home to see the monsters, treating it in many ways like a zoo, including live interactions with monsters. Most vendors, both human and monster alike, embraced the tourism with open arms, engaging tourists and locals alike with monster food, SOUL checks, and friendly Encounters. While things were calm for now, you know full well that there are politicians and companies that would be more than happy to swoop in on the idyllic life of New Home and rip it to shreds for their own gain.

A major magic case, outside the jurisdiction of New Haven...well, it might be enough to blow the current peace to hell, giving a platform to the vocal minority that claim that monsters are dangerous and evil. You can’t do that, you can’t fan the flames of the rhetoric that set off the first War; you won’t allow monsters to be forced Underground again...or into an even worse situation.

So, your plans must be adjusted. You’ll go to New Home and make your report at the Embassy there. Someone should be able to help you there. And you turn your gaze over the two skeleton brothers, surprised to realize that there is pressure against your back. 

You look up, meeting Papyrus’ concerned eyelights. His hand is pressed against your back, steadying you.

“SANS, WHAT IS WRONG WITH THE HUMAN? ARE THEY TOO TIRED? IT’S LIKE THEY’RE SLEEPING ON THEIR FEET, MUCH LIKE YOU.”

“heh, boss, i don’t think it’s anything like that,” Sans says, eyes trained at the point of contact between you and his brother. He seems nonplussed, but he smiles as his brother. “i think they’re just daydreaming.”

“BUT SANS, IT’S NIGHTTIME.”

“I’m awake, I’m awake,” you say. “Sorry, I was just thinking. I zone out a bit sometimes when that happens.”

“what? did you have a  _ brain freeze _ ?” Sans asks.

You chuckle, shaking your head even as Papyrus makes a noise of frustration. “More like the opposite really, more like a  _ meltdown _ ,” you say. Your words are a little more honest than you meant them to be, but you keep your smile light and easy. “Thank you for your help, Papyrus,” you say, touching his radius. “Sometimes I get too in my head; your touch grounded me.”

Papyrus’ mouth opens, but no sound comes out. He closes it with an audible click before shaking his head, pulling his hand away from you. “OF COURSE! THE GREAT AND TERRIBLE PAPYRUS IS A MASTER AT UNDERSTANDING SUBTEXT AND NUANCE! YOU ARE WELCOME FOR MY FANTASTIC ASSISTANCE!”

You smile at them both. “So, your first day on the Surface. My guess is neither of you are registered at the Embassy?” They exchange puzzled looks. “I thought so. Well, if you’d like to join me, I’ll be traveling to New Home tomorrow; I need to make a report at the Embassy for a missing person-- _ missing persons _ \--case.” You run a hand through your hair. “Would you like to accompany me? The Embassy can connect you with people you know on the Surface--friends and family, anything like that--and help you get settled with housing and assistance in securing a job.” Really, you were sometimes jealous of monsters, their government took  _ much _ better care of them. “What do you think?”

The brothers look at each other again and, this time, appear to hold some sort of silent conversation that involves much brow and eyelight movement. Huh. You hadn’t realized their bones were so malleable. That’ll take some getting used to.

“up to ya, boss,” Sans says, gold tooth glinting under the glare of the flashlight.

“WE WILL ACCOMPANY YOU, HUMAN,” Papyrus says. “WE WILL FIND THE BEST SUITING ACCOMMODATIONS FOR MONSTERS AS TERRIBLE AS WE ARE.”

“Sounds good, Papyrus,” you say, stifling a yawn. You glance down at your watch and blanch. “Well, speaking on accommodations, I need some sleep. Do you have a place to stay tonight?”

“nah,” Sans replies. “only abode i’ve seen is that tower ya were at earlier.”

“Yeah, I’m camping out there,” you say. “You’re both welcome to join me.”

“YOU MEAN LIKE A SL--” You see Papyrus’ eyelights expand for a moment before quickly returning to their normal size. He cuts himself off, scowling slightly. “THIS IS RATHER FORWARD, HUMAN, BUT I WILL ACCEPT THE INVITATION.”

You duck your head to hide your amusement. You don’t want to hurt Papyrus’ feelings, especially with how seriously he’s taking his response. “Sans, you want to lead the way?”

Sans looks between you and his brother, brow furrowed. “nah, pal. ya know the path better than me. you first.”

You take off back toward the tower, pausing when Papyrus thrusts a hand in your direction. “HAND ME THE BELONGINGS OF THE MISSING HUMAN,” Papyrus says, refusing to look at you. “YOU ARE SM-- _ WEAKER _ THAN THE GREAT PAPYRUS; I SHOULD CARRY THE LOAD.”

“Sans was right,” you say, handing off the bag. Papyrus looks at you in question. “You really are the greatest, Papyrus.”

You have the distinct pleasure of watching his entire skull light up a violent red as he snatches Florence Taylor’s belongings out of your hands, storming off in the opposite direction. 

You look at Sans. 

“Should I--should I stop him?”

“ya could try, kid,” Sans says easily, flinging an arm around you. You get the feeling he was aiming for your shoulders, but, with his height, it lands around your mid-back. He starts steering you back toward the tower. “wouldn’t suggest it though. the boss is unstoppable. don’t worry, he’ll turn up at the tower; he’s got the best sense of direction.”

“Alright,” you say, biting your lip to keep from protesting when he draws away. You could use the comfort of contact right now. “Well, let’s see if we get back before him.”

Sans snorts, head turned up to the sky again. “doubt it. boss will  _ compass _ t us.”

You chuckle softly, spending the remainder of the walk in contented silence. Sure enough, as Sans said, Papyrus is already at the tower when you return, scrutinizing your tent. As you come up alongside him, you see the immediate problem.

The tent, while large enough for two, would be a tight fit for three. And Papyrus is uncommonly tall; the tent is not designed to accommodate someone of his height. You rustle in your pocket, pulling out the tower key and grabbing up your backpack.

“I didn’t think about how uncomfortable the tent would be for you both,” you say, starting up the rickety stairs. “How about you stay in the tower tonight?”

“you sure we won’t be in  _ ranger _ ?” Sans asks.

“THAT WAS POORLY DONE,” Papyrus snaps. “WILL WE BE TRESPASSING ON SOMEONE ELSE’S TERRITORY?”

“I don’t think so,” you reply honestly, looking up at the unlit room. “I think that whatever event brought you to the Surface and made my sister disappear also affected the ranger. Besides, rangers are dedicated to helping people who come through the forest; I doubt they would mind you borrowing their residence for the evening.”

The brothers remain silent but you hear the stairs creak beneath Sans’ feet (though not Papyrus’ strangely enough), so you assume they’ve accepted the arrangement. You push into the room, flipping on the lights as you do so. Nothing has changed since you were last here.

You prop your backpack on the wobbly card table that constitutes a kitchen table and pull out all of the food you have packed inside. “I, uh, just realized that you both might be pretty hungry,” you say, turning back to the brothers. “You’re welcome to any and all of the food I have; there’s a mix of human and monster food.” (You’ve got a sweet tooth and monster food hits all those buttons just right.)

“what about you, kid?” Sans asks, crossing his arms, even as Papyrus starts perusing the items. “gonna eat?”

“Maybe some chips...or chisps,” you say, grabbing up both the bags and enjoying the crinkle of the food within. “I had a bit of dinner before you showed up.”

You pop a couple of both into your mouth, noting that Papyrus gravitated to the spider donuts. Sans swipes both the bags from you, watching you for a reaction, even as he stuffs his face.

“Hey,” you say with a laugh. “That isn’t cool.”

“sharing is caring, kid,” Sans replies.

You size him up for a moment, before deciding you’re too exhausted to attempt a rescue mission on your food. “I’ll come up with a rousing eulogy for those poor potatoes tomorrow,” you say, missing the sudden sparkle in Sans’ eyelights.

You move away from them, grabbing up your toothbrush, toothpaste, and pajamas. You leave them to devour your food as you seek out the cabin’s restroom. You step inside, perform your nightly ablutions, and take in the sight of yourself in the mirror. You look like hell, hair greasy, skin sunken and sweaty, and eyes red and ringed in exhaustion. You huff, splashing your face with cold water. It doesn’t really fix anything, but you do feel a bit more alert. 

“You’ve got this,” you murmur to yourself. “I’ve got a plan. I just have to follow it through. I’ll get peanut back.” You meet your gaze, firming your jaw and watching as your chin rounds in stubbornness. “I promise.”

You step out of the bathroom, eyeing the bed. The sheets are rumpled, strewn, and you can see crumbs among them. You glance around, finding a small linen closet beside the bathroom and pulling out fresh bed sheets. As you set about making the bed, something in you calms, perhaps because you’re completing a mundane, routine task.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING HUMAN?” Papyrus asks, coming up alongside you as you finish tucking in the fitted sheet.

“I’m making the bed for you...or Sans,” you say. “Or both of you. Whoever plans on sleeping in the bed.”

“HUMAN, YOU ARE...VERY DIRECT,” Papyrus says, flushing and glancing away from you, hands fidgeting. “YOU’VE SKIPPED MANY STEPS IN THE MANUAL; ALREADY TO THE STAGE OF SHARING A BED!”

Your eyes go wide. “Oh,” you say, at a loss for words as Papyrus grabs the other side of the sheet to help you make the bed. “I won’t be sleeping in the bed.”

“WHAT? BUT YOU’RE PREPARING IT FOR--” Papyrus trails off uncertainly, looking almost disappointed.

“I’m preparing it for you,” you say. You gesture to the couch that Sans leans against, watching you both like a hawk. “The couch is too short for you to sleep on and so is the tent. The bed is the best bet, though I think it might also be a bit short for you. Sans can--” You turn to Sans.

“i’ll take the couch, boss,” Sans says, saluting lazily.

Papyrus remains silent, but his blush deepens. “YES. THIS MAKES THE MOST SENSE. YOU HAVE SEEN THE GREATNESS AND TERRIBLENESS OF PAPYRUS AND CANNOT HELP BUT FALL FOR MY CHARISMA! THIS BED WILL SUIT ME VERY WELL FOR THE NIGHT, HUMAN. YOU HAVE CHOSEN WELL FOR MY TERRIBLE SELF!”

“And look,” you say, pointing up to the skylight above the bed. “This bed is even closer to the stars.”

“YOU ARE...UNUSUAL, HUMAN,” Papyrus says, cocking his head. “WHERE DO YOU PLAN TO SLEEP?”

“I will stay in my tent below,” you say. “I have everything set up already.”

“BUT WHO WILL PROTECT YOU, HUMAN?” Papyrus asks, straightening. “YOU ARE NOT VERY STRONG; ANYONE CAN ATTACK YOU! IF THOSE MUTTS ARE ON THE SURFACE THEY ARE SURE TO ATTACK!”

“I’ll be alright, Papyrus,” you say soothingly. “Besides, I know I’m safe. The two of you are here. I trust you to keep me safe.”

You wait for a response, but neither of them speak so, with a shrug, you grab your backpack. “Sleep well you two. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Sans watches as the door clicks closed behind you before turning his eyelights back to his brother. Papyrus is still standing where you left him and Sans can  _ hear _ the way his SOUL flutters. “ya alright, boss?”

Papyrus jumps, almost spooked. “YES, OF COURSE, SANS! I AM THE PICTURE OF HEALTH.”

“ya sure are, boss,” Sans says. “healthiest set of bones i’ve ever seen.”

“NYEH,” Papyrus says, preening slightly. He drops the pose quickly, looking at the door you just exited. “SANS...THIS HUMAN IS...ODD. NONE OF MY TRAINING PREPARED ME FOR SOMEONE LIKE THEM. ARE ALL HUMANS LIKE THEM?”

“yer guess is as good as mine, boss,” Sans says with a practiced shrug. He’s uneasy with the seemingly effortless comraderie you’ve struck up with Papyrus. His younger brother is abrasive and cruel; he had to be in the Underground. The way Papyrus presents himself to the world is part-practiced, part-true and even Sans sometimes forgets which is which after so many years. And yet, somehow, you’ve slipped through Papyrus’ many defenses and you seem to like what you’ve found. Sans can understand  _ that _ ; his brother is his favorite person, but he doesn’t quite understand the seeming reciprocity, especially in such a short time. Maybe it has something to do with being on the Surface, maybe it has something to do with you specifically. “better than, even.”

He’s gonna find out.

“IT IS GOOD TO BE ON THE SURFACE, SANS,” Papyrus says. “I AM...GLAD TO SEE THE STARS.”

“heh,” Sans says. “me too papyrus. would you like a bedtime story tonight?”

“NO SANS, THAT IS ALRIGHT,” Papyrus says, climbing onto the bed. “I WILL...WATCH THE STARS TONIGHT.”

Sans smiles, turning out the light and waiting until he hears Papyrus begin to snore. As soon as he does, Sans stands from the couch, smile tightening into a grimace. He doesn’t trust you. You’re too good to be true, your first meeting too convenient and contrived for his liking. And your behavior considering the fact that “your sister is missing” does not make sense to Sans. Why aren’t you calling the authorities? Taking direct action? Hell, he’s a lazy sonuvabitch, but if it was  _ Papyrus  _ missing...well, he’d be bouncing all around using Void magic to  **g e t h i m b a c k** . 

Well, Sans expects that you want something from him and his brother. It wouldn’t surprise him; they’re a pair of strong monsters and hold a lot of sway among monsterkind. He still isn’t sure about the whole monsters surfacing eight years ago, but that’s a minor detail in Sans’ mind right now.

You are a much more pressing threat.

So--one of Sans’ eyelights snaps open with a glowing red flame--it’s about time that you two had a  _ heart-to-heart _ chat.

Or, rather, SOUL-to-bone attack chat.

He winks out of existence, reappearing at the bottom of the staircase. He strides forward, SOUL buzzing with agitation as he prepares to pull you into an Encounter, only to freeze at a strange sound.

A wet hiccuping sound.

He creeps forward, putting forth the effort to keep his steps silent. He catches sight of you seated at the lip of the tent, body wrapped in an unzipped sleeping bag. You are hunched over, shoulders shaking with force.

For a moment, Sans thinks you’re laughing and anger thrums through him, before your head turns up and to the side and he catches sight of wetness streaking across your face. Tears spill forth from your eyes, shoulders wracked with the absolute force of the sobs that tear free from deep in your chest. You keen, a thin, high-pitched sound, and Sans realizes, much like Papyrus has, just how small you are.

When you first met mere hours ago, you seemed much larger than life, cracking jokes at him, holding yourself with poise, and thinking your way through both your problems and theirs. You were intimidating, always having a plan to follow through on even when confronted with new obstacles.

But now? Well, Sans can see the chinks in your armor. You’re young; an adult by human standards but so young to monsters. You’re lonely and scared, barely keeping yourself together for the sake of seeking out your sister. And the moment you have time alone, well, of course you fall apart.

Sans feels guilt creep up his spine, threatening to overwhelm his SOUL for a moment. Whatever you are, you aren’t trying to hurt him or his brother. You’re a genuine person, just trying to--

“Sans?” you say, voice hoarse and choked. You swipe hurriedly at your cheeks, rubbing your nose against your shirt. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were here. How can I help you?”

Sans just watches you, stupefied. You’re a genuine person, just trying to help him and his brother. He doesn’t know what to do with that information; he’s never dealt with this type of authenticity. Everyone in the Underground played dangerous, high-stakes games; they had to to survive. But you…

Sans abruptly surges forward, taking a seat right beside you. He doesn’t know how to offer you comfort, but he doesn’t want to leave you alone.

“ya know, some astronomy books showed up at the dump in the underground,” Sans says, casting about for a topic. The heaving of your chest starts to ease and he continues, “well, i’ve had a chance to memorize a lot of the constellations. ya know which one is my least favorite?”

“Which one?” you ask, voice thick.

“orion’s belt. it’s just a complete  _ waist _ of space.”

“Oh my gosh,” you say, letting out a hacking cough. It isn’t a pretty sight by any means, but Sans’ SOUL lightens and warms nevertheless. “Are you kidding me? You had me going there for a second.”

“heh, don’t hold it against me,” Sans says. “like the moon, i’m just going through a  _ phase _ .”

Your shoulders start shaking for a different, entirely more pleasant reason and Sans keeps up the astronomy jokes and puns until the tears are dry on your face and your voice evens out.

He startles ever so slightly, when you list against his shoulder. His eyelights track your movement and he realizes that you’ve fallen asleep. Sans watches you for a long moment, taking in your slack features. He can see the exhaustion and fear that lined your expression now that they’ve melted away in the bliss of sleep. You look peaceful, for the very first time in his presence.

Sans’ eyelights dart away, up to the sky, unwilling to contemplate the odd tightness in his chest at that thought.

He’s never been around someone like you, someone who so freely offers a helping hand to him or to his brother. He knows now, that you aren’t a threat to him.

At least, not in the way that’ll dust him.

Then again, given the way his SOUL is nearly purring at your blatant display of trust in him, you may be a threat of another kind. He chuckles, rubbing at his chest as he shifts, trying to make you more comfortable. 

Yeah, you’re trouble alright.


	5. Chapter 5

Sans startles awake at the brief crackle of magic that flits across his senses.

A warning.

He jerks, arms tightening around the pillow he’s holding as he meets Papyrus’ gaze.

Sans immediately eases, sockets lidding as he releases his grasp on his magic. “damn, bro, ya really  _ rattled my bones  _ there.”

“Sans,” Papyrus says, voice low and tight. Sans goes on the alert, unused to hearing Papyrus speak so quietly. “What Are You Doing?”

“sleeping?” Sans says. “it’s my favorite pastime.”

He shrugs, freezing as his pillow shifts with a low groan. No. Not a pillow.

_ You _ .

Your head lolls against his shoulder, face slack and relaxed in sleep. You look to be in better shape after a night of rest and Sans’ arms shift reflexively to better accommodate you. Which, uh, draws his attention to the fact that the two of you are intertwined, his arms looped around your waist. It appears that he fell asleep while watching the stars last night, still in his seated position. Somehow, both of you had adjusted, until your upper body is pressed against his. He notices that your hands are wrapped in the front of his jacket.

“Peanut,” you whine, “stop moving.” You reach out, looping an arm around Sans’ neck as you snuggle into his jaw.

Sans flushes, jerking free of the far too intimate embrace.

“SANS,” Papyrus begins, hurrying forward with a hand outstretched and one eyelight flickering blue. Sweat appears on his skull from the effort of using this type of magic, but your body freezes and he, with a gentleness that Sans hasn’t seen in many years, lowers you to the ground. “That Was Unnecessary.”

“heh, sorry boss,” Sans says, blush still hot and red across his bones. He knows he overreacted, but he’s unsettled. He may have slept around quite a bit in the Underground, but he’s never, uh,  _ slept _ with someone--alongside someone. And he’s never passed a night with such good sleep; no nightmares, no startling awake in paranoia. It was a deep sleep and Sans is already lingering on it wistfully. “didn’t mean to leave ya to  _ pick up my slack _ .”

“SANS!” Papyrus stomps his foot, losing control over his voice. “YOU ARE SO INFURIATING! ENOUGH OF YOUR SHENANIGANS!”

You jolt, sitting upright. Both brothers turn your way and you look at them sleepily. Sans won’t meet your eyes, but Papyrus does, albeit a bit guiltily. You raise your hand to your head, grimacing at the tangled mess that is your hair.

“Morning,” you say, climbing to your feet a bit unsteadily. Your neck is a bit tight--you must’ve slept in a strange position--but you slept hard. “What’s going--”

You cut off, remembering all of the events of yesterday. You stagger slightly, before firming your stance. It wasn’t just a dream. 

Your sister is gone.

You press your hand to your eyes for a moment, before patting your face. You took the time to mourn last night and you’ll have time again to ruminate later, but for now you’ve got tasks to do.

“Did you sleep well?” you ask, looking at the skeletons. “Was the cabin alright?”

They exchange looks, Sans seeming nervous and Papyrus seeming irritable. “IT WAS A SUITABLE ACCOMMODATION FOR THE EVENING,” Papyrus says. “SANS, DID YOU ENJOY THE COUCH?”

“s-sure did, boss,” Sans says. “it was surprisingly soft.”

“NYEH!” Papyrus says and you catch a flash of color across his face. “HUMAN, GET PREPARED FOR OUR TRAVELS. SANS AND I WILL PERFORM A PATROL OF THE AREA FOR THREATS!”

You watch with a bit of confusion as Papyrus strides forward, grabs Sans by his hood, and marches away. You shake your head, deciding not to question it. It’s too early in the day for you to contemplate skeleton tomfoolery.

You head up to the cabin and dress for the day. You fill up your water bottle at the sink, pausing in thought. You aren’t sure if skeleton monsters need water, but you figure it won’t hurt as you fill up your spare water bottles, before locking up the cabin as you leave. You set about eating handfuls of granola as you pack away your remaining supplies.

You aren’t sure how they managed to time it (magic maybe), but the skeletons emerge from the woods as you shoulder the tent bag.

“THE PERIMETER IS SECURE, HUMAN,” Papyrus says. “IT IS SAFE FOR TRAVELING PURPOSES.”

“Thanks Papyrus,” you reply distractedly as you examine your map. “We’ve got a bit of a hike ahead of us, about eleven miles to our destination.”

“great,” Sans says, looking miserable. “i--uh, i might just meet ya there. could i see that map, trouble?”

Trouble? A new nickname? “You got a method of getting yourself there quicker?”

“yeah. ya could call it a shortcut.” Sans’ eyelights flit between you and the map, contemplating something. “actually, i could get us all out of here pretty quick if you can trust me.”

Papyrus opens his mouth, but you don’t notice, relief lining your features. “Really? That would be amazing! It’s the house that’s circled there.”

“heh, glad to hear it, kid,” Sans says, unable to look at you directly when you wear an expression of such abundant relief. “so it looks like the house is directly south of us and slightly east. let me test this out first and i’ll be back.”

You watch Sans wink out of existence, feeling his lingering magic buffet against you for a moment before dissipating. A hand settles on your shoulder and you look up. Papyrus’ phalanges are curled around the straps of all of the bags you’re holding. Florence Taylor’s belongings are already held in his free hand.

“ALLOW ME, HUMAN,” he says. “YOUR STRENGTH IS NOTHING COMPARED TO MINE.”

Your lips curl into a fond smile. “Thank you for the offer, Papyrus. Are you sure it is not an imposition?”

“OF COURSE NOT!” Papyrus blusters, snatching up the bags. He holds them effortlessly. “I AM PLENTY STRONG ENOUGH.”

You raise your hands in surrender just as Sans appears beside you both. There’s the slight sheen of red sweat on his temple. “got it. i can take you both now.”

“Alright, what do we need to do?” you ask, glancing between the two brothers. Papyrus seems displeased, sharp teeth locked into a scowl. You return your attention to Sans. “You sure it’s alright? We could make the walk.”

“nah, it’s good. it’s what my magic was designed for after all,” Sans says. “it’s a bit intense though. you ever travel by void magic?”

“Void magic?” you say, interest peaking. You’ve studied quite a bit about magic, both in academic and popular literature, but you’ve never heard the Void mentioned. And, considering your job, you know a lot more about SOULS and magic than even what’s been made available to most humans. “I can’t say that I have. What should I expect?”

“haven’t brought many people through before,” Sans admits. “from what little i’ve seen, you may experience some pressure on your soul and physical coldness.” He pauses, eyeing you with trepidation. “i, uh, haven’t brought a human through before.”

You shrug. “Humans have shown themselves to be consistently more resistant to different types of magics than monsters.” This is, for the most part, true. Human SOULS are stronger than monster SOULS; Encounter magic does less damage to humans. However there are some magics, used outside of Encounters, that are more effective on humans, most likely because humans aren’t made of magic and are less used to those effects. But those non-Encounter magics are benevolent and you  _ really _ want to learn more about Void magic. How can you possibly pass up the opportunity for field experience? “It’ll be fine.”

Sans scrutinizes you for a long moment and, for a heartstopping second, you think he’s going to call you out. Then his grin stretches, gold tooth glinting. “whatever ya say, trouble. i’ll, uh, try not to let you  _ slip through the cracks _ .” He wiggles his segmented phalanges at you.

You snort, even as Papyrus rounds on him. “NO SCRIMSHANKING ABOUT, SANS!”

“ya got it, boss,” Sans says. He grabs Papyrus’ wrist before turning to you and raising his brow bones. He slings an arm around your waist and pulls you up against him. “i’ve got  _ no body _ , will you hold yours against me?”

Your peals of laughter are abruptly cut off as the three of you wink out of existence.

Void magic is the strangest thing you’ve yet experienced, yet an overwhelming sense of deja vu rings through you. Your SOUL is pulled and tugged upon, squeezed in a vice as you resist.

This is similar to the disappearing event of yesterday.

But, you realize with dawning horror, this sensation is so much stronger; it is unrelenting. You forget your body, your mind, everything centering on your SOUL. You can  _ see _ it, even though it hasn’t been pulled into an Encounter, glowing and pulsing. You feel alien magic buffet you, wrapping itself around your SOUL. It’s...it’s like your SOUL is being  _ coddled _ and you hear a whisper of... _ something _ , garbled words that sound like they come from underwater. Your SOUL flares, light intensifying as  _ something _ stares into you, through you. 

This entity, whatever it is (you think that trying to understand it may fracture your very self), tightens around your SOUL with intent and suddenly you can make out the words--

“Those aren’t the only options. There is always another choice--”

And then you are back in the material world, snapping back to your physical body. You immediately mourn the feeling of being unfettered, limitless, as your SOUL suddenly feels too big for your body. It’s tighter than the sensations of the Void and you can’t  _ breathe _ \--

You tear away from Sans, hurrying to a tree as you start retching. You hear an argument behind you, as if from far away and underwater, but you can’t focus on the words as you try to readjust to the confines of your body. All of the hairs on your arms and neck are on end and you tremble, losing your breakfast.

That voice…

“Peanut,” you say softly, closing your eyes as you place a trembling hand against the tree.

She’s alive. She’s...well, she sounds alright. Wherever she was, she was ranting at someone, something about always having a choice…

You slowly come back to yourself, the overstimulation of inhabiting physical, material space easing away. You suddenly realize that someone is speaking to you in low, soothing tones, as a hand rubs along your lower back.

You straighten, looking over at Papyrus whose hand is on you and Sans who continues speaking, anxiety and guilt warring on his face. “ya alright there, sweetheart? ya gave us quite a scare. really  _ rattled our bones _ .”

“YOU ALREADY USED THAT ONE, SANS,” Papyrus says, voice tight. You wince slightly at the bracing quality of his voice, but it passes quickly. “Y/N, ARE YOU WELL?”

“I’ll be fine,” you say uncertainly, taking inventory of yourself. Your stomach is settling, the ringing in your ears is nearly gone, and your limbs no longer feel like liquid. “I am fine. The Void was just...unexpected.” Understatement of the year. “We’ve learned something though; humans and the Void do  _ not _ mix well. At least, without preparation.”

You want to try again. Not right away, you don’t think you could muster the energy to pull yourself back together if you went into the Void again.

Even more than that, you fear not wanting to return. Already, your mind is trying to pick apart your experiences in the Void and the thing you keep circling back to is that desire to stay. Being in the Void wasn’t pleasant by any means, but something draws you back to it; like a moth to flame.

“yeah, we aren’t doing that again any time soon, trouble,” Sans says. “scared me right outta my skin.”

“You don’t have any skin,” you say with a huff, reaching into the pack Papyrus is carrying to pull out some gum. You offer some to each of them.

“ _ see _ ?” Sans says, gesticulating widely. “ya scared it off.”

You smile at that, moving away from the tree. “Thank you both. You’re both really sweet.”

Both Sans and Papyrus look away, faces flushing a glowing red. You eye them both, realizing that Papyrus’ is a bit of a deeper red, something like crimson, while Sans’ is lighter, a vermilion. Your smile softens, heart warming.

They’re really cute.

“C’mon,” you say, gesturing away from the trail. You start heading down the path and pull your keys out of your pocket. “Let’s get out of this damn forest.”

You see the brothers join you in your peripherals, but your focus is on the path. You crest a rolling hill, sighing in relief as you see your grandmother’s house. But you don’t really focus on the familiar building, built by the loving hands of both your grandparents. No, your eyes are on your car.

You approach the vehicle, affectionately named “Alfred” by your sister. She always names the inanimate objects you own. It’s hard for you to keep track, but your sister never skips a beat. A pang of melancholy strikes you, but you push through it.

You pop the trunk, turning to the brothers. “Well?”

Both of them regard you with a surprising amount of reluctance, staying away from the car.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, immediately concerned. Have you unknowingly done something to offend?

“IS IT SAFE?” Papyrus asks. “WILL IT TRANSFORM INTO A SENTIENT FIGHTING ROBOT IF WE APPROACH?”

“What?” you say, absolutely lost. Then it hits you. Monsters didn’t have cars in the Underground; you can still remember the carnage in the months immediately following monsters surfacing. So many fire hydrants lost in the crossfire… “Oh. No, this car is not sentient and it doesn’t transform into anything else.”

“NOT EVEN THE ARM OF A LARGER ROBOT?” Papyrus asks, looking a bit disappointed.

“Unfortunately no,” you reply, smacking the bumper with affection. “Alfred here only serves as transportation.”

“but it has a name,” Sans says.

“Just a little joke,” you say. “I promise, no sentience here.”

They approach warily and you leave them to circle the car, investigating as you load it. You climb into the driver’s seat, glancing up at your grandmother’s house. Your heart hurts at the reminder of your family and you redirect your attention to the brothers. 

“You coming?”

“YES!”

The brothers climb into the car, following the amused instructions you have to give them to guide them through the process. This includes explaining the rights of shotgun, how car doors work, and right now--

“WHY MUST WE WEAR SEATBELTS?” Papyrus asks, snapping the belt. “IT SEEMS LIKE A TRAP TO ENSNARE YOU WITHIN THE DEPTHS OF THIS MECHANICAL BEAST.”

“It keeps you safe if something were to happen, like if the car must stop or is stopped abruptly,” you explain. “Without a seatbelt, you can be flung from the vehicle.”

Both brothers tense. 

“so this is dangerous,” Sans says.

You turn to look at him in the backseat. “I think you’ll be alright if anything happens; that Void magic is pretty handy.”

“what about ya, trouble? boss has gravity magic and i have my void magic, but what will ya do?” Sans says, hands twitching in concern.

You thumb your seatbelt. “That’s what this is for. Seriously, I appreciate the concern, but I’ll be alright. I’ve been driving for years. Trust me.”

Sans watches you, jaw tight in a grimace. “alright, trouble. i’ll trust ya.”

You smile at him empathetically, reaching out to squeeze his patella. You resettle yourself in your seat, offering Papyrus control of the radio. “Next stop, New Home.”


	6. Chapter 6

“We’re here,” you say, pulling into a parking space. Both Papyrus and Sans jump slightly; they were absorbed in watching the world of the Surface pass by outside their windows. “Welcome to the Embassy.”

You step out of the car, looking up at the building with something of a wry grin. Before monsters surfaced, this building was a derelict and abandoned hotel. Once, generations ago, it’d been the shining pearl of the town, but between poor management and a flatlining economy, it’d gone under years before you were born. When monsters surfaced, they were offered the space and others like it oh so generously by local government.

Well, the joke was on them as, in little time at all, the building was restored to its former glory. Honestly, you like it even more than the grainy black and white photos you’ve seen of the hotel in its heyday; the combination of its old art nouveau style and the `80s retro style that pervades monster aesthetic creating an odd but uniquely beautiful effect. 

Most of New Home is refitted in much the same way and you love it.

Papyrus strides over to you, sticking close enough for you to feel the crackle of the magic that runs through his body. It isn’t exactly the same as body heat; it leaves a lingering tingling sensation. You glance up at him in question, in your brief acquaintanceship with Papyrus he doesn’t come across as the most touchy-feely person.

His eyelights rove over your surroundings, scrutinizing the few monsters and humans alike who mill about the area.

“It’s alright,” you say, placing a hand on his ulna. His red eyelights snap to you, shrinking for a moment. “We aren’t in danger here at the Embassy.”

Papyrus tightens his jaw, but he steps back from you slightly. It isn’t much, he is definitely still hovering, but you’ll be able to move without stumbling into him. You turn back to the car, snorting at the sight of Sans sprawled across your backseat. You rap your knuckles against the window.

“C’mon lazybones,” you say. “It’s time to get you both settled.”

Sans’ snores cut off abruptly as he sits up, eyelights large and dazed. Still, he’s more alert than you expected. He meets your amused gaze and grins. “couldn’t let me sleep a little longer? i’m still  _ dead tired _ .”

You shake your head, huffing under your breath. “I’m sure.”

“SANS, DO NOT CONFUSE THE HUMAN!” Papyrus turns to you with concern as Sans ambles out of the car. Sans casually slings an arm around you and you leave it be, catching the way his eyelights dart around. You doubt anything you say will ease their caution, considering the way that Papyrus still hovers as you walk. “HUMAN, WE ARE NOT DEAD. I UNDERSTAND THAT YOU HUMANS POSSESS SKELETONS WITHIN YOUR BODY, BUT THOSE ARE NOT ALIVE. WE ARE.”

“I know, Papyrus,” you say with a laugh. Is this an actual worry of his? “Human skeletons don’t walk around; you’re pretty different from those.”

Papyrus gallantly holds the door open for you and you give him your thanks as you step inside the Embassy. You pause on the threshold, taking in the splendor of the Embassy. You’ve been here many times, but it always catches you off guard, leaving you a bit breathless. Murals cover the walls of the lobby, depicting the history of monsters and the day they surfaced. Light glints off the gilt accents and your eyes catch on the depictions of the Seven Souls, arresting there.

“c’mon danger,” Sans says, jostling the arm around your waist. “let’s get this over with.”

You head to the reception’s desk, greeting the hand monster that mans the desk. “Hi there, uh, Dextra. We need to set up a meeting to…” You trail off, scrambling for the right words. “...resettle monsters from the Underground to the Surface.”

The monster nods, fingers shifting slightly. “There aren’t too many monsters who still need to be placed. We do have case workers who can assist. If you would fill out these forms?” She hands over two clipboards. Her head shifts, fingers fanning for a moment as she regards Sans and Papyrus. “Oso should be back from lunch in ten minutes; he’ll come out for one of you--”

“both,” Sans interrupts, arm tightening around you. “we’ll see him together.”

“You waive any privacy concerns?” the receptionist asks.

“OF COURSE!” Papyrus replies.

She taps away at her keyboard for a few moments. “Alright. Oso will see you both shortly.”

“you coming, trouble?” Sans asks, realizing that you’re still planted in front of reception.

“In a moment,” you say, waving him off. “Just need to get a little more information.”

He watches you for a moment. You raise Florence Taylor’s belongings and you see the tension in his shoulders ease in realization. “k.”

Sans leads Papyrus over to some plush armchairs and they both begin filling out their forms. You watch Papyrus for a moment, surprised by the ease and even grace with which he handles the pen in his sharp claws.

You turn back to the receptionist. “I have something to report to the Guard,” you say, fiddling with your bag. You’re filled with a nervous energy; you don’t want to hit a dead end or another complication. You’re so afraid that you’ll hear the worst; that your sister is beyond your reach… “Do I need to schedule an appointment for that?”

“No, no, nothing as formal as that,” the receptionist replies. Her head shifts and her forefinger points up and to the left. “You’ll just need to go up to their office on the third floor. Is there any other way I can be of assistance?”

“No, thank you for your help, Dextra,” you say.

You glance longingly at the stairs before heading over to sit with the brothers. You’ll be able to make the report soon; Sans and Papyrus will be in their meeting and you’ll go to yours.

“ya get it figured out?” Sans asks, barely glancing up from the forms.

You nod, taking a seat beside Papyrus. He straightens slightly and the clipboard shifts. You can briefly see his handwriting scrawled on the page and you sit up, interested. You avert your eyes from his page, not wanting to actually read the content as you pull out your phone and fiddle with it a bit.

“Oh my gosh,” you manage to choke out before dissolving into giggles.

“WHAT IS IT HUMAN?” Papyrus asks, turning to you.

You shake your head, clutching your sides as you sink into your seat.

Papyrus writes in a perfect Papyrus font.

_ How _ ?

How can he even write like that with a ballpoint pen?

“what’s tickling your funny bone, danger?” Sans asks, leaning around his brother to look at you.

“Do you--do you write in a sans-serif font?” you force out, face red with the force of your laughter.

“not sure what ya mean, sweetheart,” Sans replies. He turns his clipboard to you though, allowing you to see his handwriting.

Oh.

No.

Your giggles evolve into full-on laughter and you raise a hand to your mouth, trying to muffle the sounds.

Sans writes in Comic Sans.

“I--I can’t,” you say. “You really are  _ font _ -ful family!”

The brothers exchange looks before looking back at you.

“YOU BETTER NOT HAVE BROKEN OU--THE HUMAN, SANS,” Papyrus says, turning back to his paperwork.

“me? she’s laughing because of ya,” Sans replies. His eye sockets lid as he watches you. “but i can think of a few ways to make ya  _ scream _ .”

“SANS!” Papyrus says, voice increasing in volume. “THAT IS INAPPROPRIATE BEHAVIOR!”

“it’s fine, boss. i’ll let danger hold it against me.” Sans’ eyelights travel over you and he gives you an exaggerated lascivious grin. “or just hold yourself against me.”

They snipe back and forth at each other as you slowly recover yourself, swiping at your watering eyes. Wow. You really needed that. You’ve been wound so tight; no wonder you fell apart the moment that humor was presented to you. You take several deep breaths, recovering.

“Thanks,” you say.

Papyrus and Sans pause in their banter, returning their attention to you. It looks like they’re about to say something, only for their expressions to shutter and go absolutely blank.

It’s kind of a terrifying transformation and you tense, just as a gruff voice says, “I’m the case worker, Oso. I’m guessing you’re the skeletons Dextra was referring to?”

You turn, taking in the bear monster standing before you. “They are,” you reply belatedly, frowning at the silent skeletons. Why are they acting so cold?

“Alright, we can meet in my office,” Oso says. “We can get you settled with an apartment today and start discussing job opportunities, figure out what type of career you want to have on the Surface.” 

“k,” Sans says, getting to his feet. “you ready, boss?”

“HUMAN, ARE YOU COMING?” Papyrus asks as he leaps to his feet.

“I don’t know if that’s the best idea,” you say, looking between him and Oso. “You’ll be discussing private information...”

“it’s fine,” Sans says. “you’re welcome to join us.”

You look at Oso who just shrugs. “Alright,” you say, following them into the office.

You all take seats and you notice that you’re between Papyrus and Sans, bracketing you in...for protection? Just because?

You shrug it off, watching as Oso quickly flips through their paperwork. “Are Sans and Papyrus family names?”

“WHY DOES IT MATTER?” Papyrus says. “PAPYRUS IS  _ MY _ NAME NOW; ANYONE ELSE WHO HAS HELD THE NAME IS IRRELEVANT.”

“Just seen a couple other skeletons with the same names,” Oso says. “I recently completed the paperwork for some other skeletons a couple months ago. Seems like skeleton monsters are starting to settle in New Home.”

You frown, glancing between the brothers before returning your eyes to Oso. “Guess New Home has a pull, huh,” you say lightly, ignoring the churning in your gut.

“Seems like it,” Oso says agreeably. “Well, everything seems to be in order here. We’ll be able to get you housed today. You are allowed to stay in this housing as long as you like, but most monsters regard it as a temporary residence. It’s a bit isolated from the greater community of the Surface and most monsters want to be more integrated than this housing offers. 

“Now, career-wise, Sans, you have written that you have training as an engineer?” Sans nods. “There are many jobs on the Surface that need engineers. I’ll get you a packet on some positions currently available and you can apply for any that you care for. Papyrus, you were in the Guard?”

“I WAS CAPTAIN OF THE GUARD!” Papyrus says.

You see a flicker of something on Oso’s face--uncertainty maybe--before it smoothes away. “Well, you can apply to work in the Royal Guard on the Surface if you choose. You can also complete a career aptitude test if you like.” You frown, not caring for the subtle condescension Oso is directing toward Papyrus. From Sans’ glare, you think he feels much the same. “The only thing left to do in this first meeting is to do a SOUL check to make sure you’re in good health.”

You shift in your seat. “I’ll leave you to it.”

Sans places his hand on your shoulder. “stay.”

“You sure?” you ask, face warming. Seeing a SOUL is always an intimate thing, but seeing a SOUL  _ outside  _ of an Encounter? Well, that’s another level of intimacy. You look at Papyrus. “It won’t bother you?”

“STAY,” Papyrus says, averting his eyelights.

“Okay,” you say.

“how’re ya wanting to do this, pal?” Sans asks, looking at Oso. His face is hard and eyelights so dim that they are nearly invisible. “it’s just a check right?”

“Yeah,” Oso says, looking discomfited. You can feel the pressure of Sans’ magic and you’re sure that Oso can too. “No need for an Encounter.”

“heh, can do,” Sans says, standing up. 

The crackle of his magic increases and you can feel sweat bead your brow.

You reach out and grab his hand, intertwining your fingers through his. His magic almost hiccups as he looks at you and you’re relieved to see his eyelights grow larger and brighter when he looks at you.

He grips your hand in turn, scoffing. “let’s get this over with,” he says.

Sans brings his free hand to his chest and you avert your eyes as his SOUL emerges. Still, you can see it in your peripherals. His SOUL, like all monsters, appears as an inverted heart and is a pure, pristine white. You find your eyes drawn to it, despite your best efforts. You  _ love _ how monster SOULS look.

There are some people who think monster SOULS are boring because of the uniformity of their coloring. Human SOULS come in a variety of sizes and colors, but monster SOULS all look alike for the most part, with only some minute differences. There are even some, a minority thankfully, who think the differences in SOULS is proof that humans are superior.

But, in your mind, monster SOULS are beautiful. Sans’ SOUL has a pearlescent quality to it, a shimmery sheen that refracts light. You know, from experience, that, when in Encounters with humans, monster SOULS reflected the color of the human SOUL. You personally think that monster SOULS, being literally made of love, hope, and compassion, are white because they equally encompass all of the SOUL traits. Human SOULS, while physically stronger, cannot handle more than a few traits at a time and rarely are they equally represented in the SOUL. 

But you have yet to truly test this hypothesis.

As you contemplate the matter of SOULS, you stare deeply at Sans’ SOUL.

“we done here?” Sans asks tightly, flush high on his cheekbones as he watches you from the corners of his eye sockets.

“Yep,” Oso says. “All clear.”

Sans sends his SOUL back into his body and you guess that the disappointment is clear on your face because, as he sits down, he leans over and says, “if ya didn’t get enough, sweetheart, i can give ya a private showing later.”

And then he  _ winks _ .

Well, you aren’t taking that lying down.

You assess him in turn, allowing your gaze to linger as you do so. “Not sure you could handle a one-on-one session with me,” you drawl. “You already look  _ dead on your feet _ .”

Sans’ flush deepens and you see his eyelights wobble before he ducks his head with a laugh. “alright, danger, ya win this round. i’m feeling a little winded.”

You rub your thumb along his phalanges and he glances down, surprised to see that you’re still holding hands.

“HERE, GAZE IN AWE UPON MY SOUL, HUMAN!” Papyrus says, thrusting his chest out. “OSO, TREMBLE IN TERROR BEFORE THE MIGHT OF THE GREAT AND TERRIBLE PAPYRUS!”

With his express permission, you watch as Papyrus’ SOUL emerges. He reaches out and grabs at your free hand, which you offer him willingly. Your monster friends have mentioned how vulnerable exposing their SOUL can be and you’re happy to offer any type of comfort that you can.

His SOUL fairly glows, making the rest of the room appear dim in comparison. You can feel his magic fizzes up your arm. It feels different from Sans’, heavier and more direct and somehow warmer. Physically, it appears much the same, though slightly larger than Sans’. Your mouth tastes of sour candy, a side-effect of heavy exposure to magic.

You stare at his SOUL, taking in the shifting lights across its surface. It’s absolutely gorgeous and your breath catches. You instantly mourns its loss when it is reabsorbed into his chest and you blink as your eyes try to adjust to the lighting.

“Well, you’re both the picture of health,” Oso says, writing a couple of things down. “There’s no need for a follow-up with a doctor at this time.”

“great,” Sans says. “now what?”

“Well, there’s a representative who can take you to your apartments,” Oso says. “Should be available to take you over in about thirty minutes.”

“Perfect,” you say, getting to your feet. “And those career packets?”

“The representative will bring them,” Oso says, eyeing Sans warily.

You lead the brothers out of the room. “I need to make a report with the Guard,” you say, gesturing toward the staircase.

“consider us joined at yer hip,” Sans says.

“WE WILL NOT LEAVE YOU UNPROTECTED,” Papyrus adds.

The three of you make your way up the winding stairs and you go through the motions of making a report to the dog monster stationed there. You somewhat reluctantly hand over the items you found, finding it difficult to part with them. You’re part in all of this is over, and something in you fights that thought. You will do whatever it takes to get your sister back though, so you do hand over everything.

You keep your sister’s bandana though, tied tight around your wrist. You won’t--you  _ can’t _ \--bring yourself to part with it.

And as you watch the dog monster take everything away into evidence, you comfort yourself with the knowledge that you took pictures of everything. It’s a small thing, but it’s a start.

_ If  _ the official investigation proves a bust, you can always conduct your own.

“THAT’S IT?” Papyrus asks as you head back downstairs to the lobby.

“That’s it,” you say, striving to keep your voice even.

“WELL, I DON’T KNOW WHY THE GUARD ABOVEGROUND FUNCTIONS DIFFERENTLY, BUT THAT WAS SHODDY WORK ON THEIR PART! THEY DIDN’T EVEN INTERVIEW YOU!”

“They said they’ll give me a call,” you say, slumping into a chair. “They have to verify the information first. And probably untangle the jurisdiction nightmare this is certain to be.”

“I AM...SORRY,” Papyrus says, voice uncharacteristically hesitant.

You can feel Sans jolt beside you, his expression incredulous, but your attention is on Papyrus. “Why do you feel sorry, Papyrus? It isn’t your fault.”

“I KNOW THAT!” Papyrus blusters, crossing his arms as he keeps his sockets turned toward the ceiling. “IT’S JUST...YOU SEEMED A BIT DOWNTRODDEN. AND THAT JUST WON’T DO!”

Your chest warms at his display of abrasive concern. “Thank you Papyrus.” You place your hand on his arm and exhale deeply. “We’ll see where things go from here.”

“ya got a plan don’t ya, trouble,” Sans says, eyelights brightening. “gonna stir up some mischief?

You smile nervously, meeting his knowing gaze. You’re unsure of his intentions, but he seems to see right through you. “I’m not planning to make a mess of things,” you say. “I just want to get to the bottom of things. I just want to get my sister back.”

Sans doesn’t reply immediately, but you see a softening in his eye sockets. His eyes shift toward your chest and you’re almost offended for a moment before you realize his gaze seems unfocused, almost like he’s looking beyond you.

His smile shifts to something genuine and delicate. “yer soul’s in the right place, trouble. just watch yerself. don’t want ya to have a bad time.”

“HELLO!” a voice booms and you jump, turning. “I AM THE MASCOT OF ALL MONSTERS.” You stare in disbelief at the skeleton monster. “I AM THE REPRESENTATIVE WHO WILL BE TAKING YOU TO YOUR NEW ABODE.” The monster is tall and lanky and bears an almost scary resemblance to Papyrus. If not for Papyrus’ sharp grin, scar across his eye socket, and slight advantage on height and width, you would call them twins. You wonder briefly if that’s a racist thought, but Papyrus resembles this new monster more than he resembles Sans. This new monster is wearing a crop top and a red scarf and you recognize him from memes. Isn’t his name-- “I AM THE GREAT PAPYRUS.”  _ What _ ? “IT IS A PLEASURE TO MEET--” He cuts off, taking in the three of you. “Oh.”


	7. Chapter 7

You can feel the tell-tale crackle of magic from both of the skeletons beside you and you stand up, stepping forward toward this new skeleton.  _ Papyrus _ ?

It’s...well, you’ve seen a number of videos and memes featuring this monster. You knew his name was Papyrus, but you thought that maybe it was a common name among skeletons. But now, seeing both the Papyrus you know and this celebrity Papyrus at the same time, you notice the striking similarities.

“Hello...Papyrus,” you greet, offering your hand. You introduce yourself. “I’m their…” What’s the right word for it? You’ve known them for less than a full day. Acquaintance? Friend? “Associate.” It doesn’t feel right, but you press forward. This whole conversation feels awkward in any case. “They’ve recently arrived from Underground and I brought them into town.”

“OH,” celebrity Papyrus says, sockets darting between you and the brothers. “THAT WAS VERY KIND OF YOU, HUMAN.”

“WHO ARE YOU?” your Papyrus snaps, leaping to his feet and taking you by the shoulder to tuck you slightly behind him. “WHY DO YOU USE MY NAME AND UTILIZE A SIMILAR BUT SUBPAR FACE?”

“the hell’s this?” Sans says.

You glance his way. His sockets are completely empty, grin somehow threatening as he strides forward. You grab at his elbow and his grin tightens, but he stops beside you, also positioning himself in front of you.

“THAT IS A VERY GOOD QUESTION,” new Papyrus says. Sweat beads along his skull. “COULD WE--WOULD YOU BE WILLING TO WAIT TO ANSWER THAT QUESTION IN PRIVATE?”

“listen bud--” Sans’ magic swells and you see one of his sockets light with red fire.  _ Shit _ . “--if ya think we’d go anywhere with--”

“Hey,” you say, voice high as you realize that Sans is more than willing to start an Encounter in the Embassy. Monsters are watching the interaction curiously, but most of the humans haven’t picked up on his crackling magic. Yet. You can imagine just how bad it would be for someone to film this confrontation between Papyrus and...Papyrus. “Let’s settle down a bit.” Sans glares at you and you can feel the brunt of his magic come to bear on you. You stand firm, holding his gaze evenly. “ _ Please _ .”

“yer asking for trouble,” Sans says, even as his magic eases.

“I thought  _ you _ were asking for trouble,” you say. “It’s my name after all.”

Sans snorts, catching you around the waist easily. “not sure if i enjoy this  _ ribbing _ , sweetheart.”

Both Papyruses--Papyri?--let out a disappointed sigh. “SANS--!”

They both cut off, looking at each other. You can sense your Papyrus’ magic, even see it coalesce into swirling red, as you reach out to grab his hand.

“ _ Please _ , let’s go talk somewhere else,” you say. “I get the feeling that...whatever this is is more complicated and sensitive than you’d want passerby to overhear.”

Celebrity Papyrus brightens at that, letting out a relieved breath. “INDEED. THE HUMAN IS QUITE ASTUTE. I HAVE AN OFFICE HERE AT THE EMBASSY IF YOU’D LIKE TO SPEAK THERE. I PROMISE I WILL DO WHAT I CAN TO ANSWER ALL OF YOUR QUESTIONS.”

“NICE TRY, FOOL!” your Papyrus says. “I WILL NOT FALL FOR SUCH AN OBVIOUS TRAP! WE WILL MEET IN NEUTRAL TERRITORY, WHERE YOU DO NOT HAVE THE ADVANTAGE.” His eyelights snap to you and you squeeze his hand as you notice the tightness around his sockets. He’s doing a pretty stellar job of hiding it, but you know he must feel addled. “HUMAN, IS THERE A SECLUDED PLACE NEARBY THAT WILL SERVE APPROPRIATELY?”

“We could go to the park?” you say. You look at the new Papyrus. “Do you know the one off of Wooly St.?”

“I DO!” he replies, smiling so brightly that you can’t help but return it. “I HAVE A WONDERFUL VEHICLE OF TRANSPORTATION, WOULD YOU CARE FOR A RIDE?”

You take in the displeasure on the brothers’ expressions. “Thank you for the offer Papyrus, but I’ll drive separately.”

“SIGH,” He actually says sigh out loud! You grin, eyes crinkling at the corners. Celebrity Papyrus is definitely worthy of his fame; he’s really cool. “WELL, YOU WILL BE MISSING OUT ON A RIDE IN MY CONVERTIBLE. PERHAPS NEXT TIME, HUMAN!”

Both of the brothers stiffen, but you nod, raising a hand in farewell.

They stay silent until you’re back in the car and then Papyrus says, “WHAT WAS THAT?”

“I...have no idea,” you say.

“ _ WHO _ WAS THAT?”

“You don’t know him?” you ask. “He isn’t a relative?”

“there’s only two living skeletons and yer looking at them,” Sans says. “though i guess there’s three now.” Sans clears his throat, shifting slightly. “what about ya, danger? ya seemed to recognize that...skeleton.”

“I…” You look at them both, reading the slight suspicion and clear befuddlement in their faces. “That Papyrus is, as he said, the mascot for monsters. It’s something like being an ambassador, but a bit more casual? He’s something of an internet celebrity; the only monster with more name recognition is Mettaton. I knew of him; I’ve seen some videos and photos of him and knew his name.”

You turn directly to meet Papyrus’ eyes. “I didn’t realize, until we met him in person, just how similar the two of you look. I thought that Papyrus was a family name--” You see the realization in Papyrus’ eyes, obviously connecting it to the question you asked him. “--I didn’t really consider a connection.” You look between the brothers, smile going wry and bitter. “I was, uh, thinking about other things instead.”

You read remorse in Sans’ eyelights as he grabs your hand. “shit, sweetheart, yeah. ya don’t have to explain yerself. it’s just a little--”

“ _ UNNERVING _ ,” Papyrus says, an expectant gleam to his eyelights.

Sans begins to laugh, deep and full, from the gut. You stare at them both for several moments before the dots connect.

“Wow,” you say, laughing lightly. “That was pretty  _ tasteless _ of you.”

“YOU’RE WRONG HUMAN. WE HAVE THE ABILITY TO TASTE, BUT WE DO LACK NERVES,” Papyrus says.

“I don’t know about that,” you say, finally pulling out of the lot. “I think you’re both plenty brave.”

With your eyes on the road, you do not notice the sudden lull and shyness that overtakes them momentarily.

You take a couple of back roads, idly listening to the brothers as they start bickering as you navigate toward the park. The park is one that has been in New Home for long before the city became New Home; you remember visits taken here when you were in elementary school. 

“Here we are,” you say. 

The park is, thankfully, a bit empty right now, with only a few humans and monsters milling about. You make your way over to the empty swing sets, wrapping your hand in the links as you take a seat.

Papyrus and Sans watch you, looking a bit impressed as you start moving back and forth.

A thought strikes you. “Have you...have you ever used a swing?”

“NO,” Papyrus says, gaze following the swing’s motions. “HOW DOES IT WORK?”

You stop, assisting Papyrus in settling onto a swing. It’s a bit small for him, his long legs are a bit awkward, but he picks up on your instructions quickly. You watch him pump his legs, heart pinching. You taught your sister how to swing too. Keeping an eye on him, you say to Sans, “You want to give it a try?”

“nah, i don’t  _ swing _ that way,” Sans says, a fond look in his eyes as he regards Papyrus. “isn’t my bro the coolest?”

You watch Papyrus, catching the flicker of blue magic on the chains of the swing to send him impossibly higher. “He is,” you say softly in agreement. You glance at Sans, startled to find him staring directly at you. “You can just sit in the swing; you don’t have to put in quite the effort that Papyrus does.” You grin conspiratorially and start swinging again. “I don’t think anyone could possibly match Papyrus’ efforts.”

“yer right about that,” Sans says, ambling to the swing beside you. He hops up onto the seat and you have to suppress a smile at the way his feet dangle, unable to touch the ground. “i’m glad ya brought us here. i haven’t seen boss have this much fun in a while.”

“HUMAN!”

You jolt, turning toward celebrity Papyrus as he lopes over to you. Your Papyrus leaps from the swing at its zenith, landing gracefully in front of you. He stands to his full height, crossing his arms as he glares at celebrity Papyrus. “Hi Papyrus,” you say, standing from the swing. “Did you find the park alright?”

“YES,” celebrity Papyrus says. “I APOLOGIZE FOR THE WAIT; I GOT HELD UP AT THE EMBASSY.” His sockets are directed away from you and you get the feeling that he’s lying. “WELL. THAT ISN’T EXACTLY ACCURATE. I WAS TRYING TO CONTACT MY BROTHER. BUT THAT LAZYBONES REFUSED TO ANSWER HIS PHONE!”

“Your brother?” you repeat dumbly. “There are others?” You stop, remembering what Oso said. Of course there are others. At least two others. No wait, there’s a skeleton monster at your university. Probably at least three. “Did he...did he register at New Home recently?”

“NO,” Papyrus says, skull sweating. “MY OLDER BROTHER HAS LIVED IN NEW HOME SINCE WE SURFACED.”

“what’s yer brother’s name?” Sans asks, still sitting on the swing.

“UM…” And then, accomplishing something you didn’t think possible, celebrity Papyrus mutters something under his breath, quiet and unintelligible.

“WHAT WAS THAT, IMPOSTER?” your Papyrus asks.

“HIS NAME IS SANS,” Papyrus blurts.

“Sorry,” you say, keeping your voice even, as magic crackles through the brothers. “Could you explain that a bit?”

“YES, OF COURSE. THAT IS WHY WE ARE HERE AFTER ALL. THERE HAS BEEN A...DISTURBANCE IN VOID MAGIC. I CAN’T EXPLAIN IT AS WELL AS THE OTHERS--THAT’S WHY I WANTED TO SPEAK WITH MY BROTHER--BUT IT’S...WELL, IT MESSES WITH TIMELINES.”

Sans stands, glaring up at celebrity Papyrus. “explain.”

“ABOUT TWO MONTHS AGO, TWO SKELETONS APPEARED IN THE FORESTS NEAR NEW HOME. SANS FOUND THEM. THEY ARE...WELL, THEY ARE ALTERNATE UNIVERSE VERSIONS OF...US. SANS AND ME, SPECIFICALLY. SANS AND STRETCH--THAT’S THE NICKNAME THAT ALTERNATE PAPYRUS GOES BY--ARE ATTEMPTING TO REVERSE THE PROCESS.”

“Obviously it did not work,” you say, blood pounding in your ears. You look at your Sans and Papyrus--one set of three?--and catch their stricken looks. You grab at their hands, trying to offer them some semblance of comfort and take some for yourself. It doesn’t exactly ground you, but you aren’t sure if anything can right now. “What set off the disturbance in Void magic?”

“I AM NOT ENTIRELY SURE,” Papyrus says. “MY BROTHER KNOWS MORE ABOUT VOID MAGIC. I KNOW HE WAS WORKING OUT IN THE FOREST WHEN BLUE AND STRETCH WERE PULLED THROUGH--”

“was he now?” Sans says through gritted teeth. “and what the hell was this...prime directive working on?”

“I DO NOT KNOW,” Papyrus admits. “SOME SORT OF MACHINE. HE CLAIMED IT WOULD FIX THINGS; MAKE OUR TIMELINE STABLE--”

“WELL IT SEEMS TO HAVE DONE THE OPPOSITE,” your Papyrus snaps, gesturing angrily. “WHAT IS HE DOING NOW?”

“HE’S ADJUSTING HIS CALCULATIONS,” Papyrus says. “HE’S TRYING TO MAKE THINGS RIGHT.”

There’s a roaring in your ears, but your voice is calm and steady as you say, “What about the humans?”

Celebrity Papyrus--stars, you need to come up with a nickname or something--looks at you. “WHAT ABOUT THEM? THEY ARE THUS FAR UNAWARE OF THE SKELETAL ANTICS--”

“Not that,” you say distantly, breaking contact with Sans and Papyrus to approach celebrity Papyrus. You faintly hear noises of protest, but you’re beyond that, beyond them. “The  _ missing  _ humans.”

“WHAT?” Papyrus asks and you see his eye sockets boggle. In any other situation, you would laugh. “WHAT DO YOU MEAN?”

“People are missing; disappeared around the same time that the…alternate universe skeletons appeared.” Stars, you can barely wrap your mind around it. “That’s how I came across these two. I was out in the forest with my sister--” Your voice breaks, raw and angry. You shake yourself and glare up at Papyrus. You know he isn’t at fault, but you need him to  _ understand _ . Desperation fills you and you are certain that, if you were a monster, you would’ve already pulled this Papyrus into an Encounter. “Whatever the hell your brother did, I’m willing to bet it has something to do with these disappearances. So. I’ll rephrase the question a bit. Where the  _ hell _ is my sister?”


	8. Chapter 8

You sprawl out on the barstool, glancing down at your phone. You arrived thirty minutes early on purpose, wanting to get settled in before the skeleton troupe arrive. You’re glad to be among other people, the buzz of conversation washing over you.

Last night was too quiet for your tastes.

You didn’t enjoy being home alone, the silence reminding you all too much that your sister was gone. You’d walked her room, fingering the bandana she left behind, your only physical connection.

You didn’t sleep well.

So it is with relief that you order a raspberry lemonade and strike up a little bit of conversation with Fred, the usual daytime bartender.

You feel the crackle of unfamiliar magic at the door and hear Fred make a soft ‘ _ huh _ .’ 

You turn on the barstool, listening to it squeak as you meet the gaze of the skeleton at the door. He’s short, shorter than the other skeletons you’ve met, and dressed sharply in dark jeans, a blue scarf around his neck, and a leather jacket over a fitted shirt. His eyelights, the largest you’ve seen, are a bright, neon blue. 

You wiggle your fingers at him in a wave, introducing yourself. He fairly bounds forward, taking your outstretched hand with enthusiasm.

“HELLO Y/N, I AM THE GREAT AND MAGNIFICENT BLUE! IT IS A TRUE PLEASURE TO MEET YOU.” His expression falters for a moment, before his smile returns. “I AM SORRY IT IS UNDER SUCH CIRCUMSTANCES, BUT IT IS GOOD TO MEET YOU NONETHELESS.”

“Likewise,” you say, leading him to a corner booth. “You arrived early.”

“YES,” Blue says, eyeing the booth with mild distaste before taking the seat. You try to see Shorty’s through his eye sockets. This dingy dive-bar of a grease trap. The walls are faded, the booths damaged, and the tabletops usually a bit sticky, but it’s lived in. It’s homey. There is a reason people flock here and it isn’t just the delicious, greasy food. But Blue doesn’t have the same years of history with this place that you do, the way it’s become a safe haven away from the rest of your life. “I ALWAYS LIKE TO ARRIVE EARLY. IT ENSURES THAT I AM PUNCTUAL, THOUGH IT SEEMS THAT YOU BEAT ME!” His eyelights brighten. “AND I WANTED TO MAKE YOUR ACQUAINTANCE BEFORE ALL OF THE...HOOPLAH OF THE DAY.”

Your eyes crease at the corners. You’ve never heard anyone sporting a leather jacket use the word ‘ _ hooplah _ ,’ but the contrast is pretty cute. “Well, it is nice to meet you, Blue. You’ve been in town for about two months?” He nods. “How have you been keeping yourself entertained?”

“I’VE TAKEN ON A FEW JOBS SINCE ARRIVING,” Blue replies, pausing to order a water. You order a round of fried pickles at the same time and get a refill of your lemonade. “I WORK AS A ZOOKEEPER AT THE LOCAL ZOO. HAVE YOU BEEN?”

You perk up, balancing your elbows on the table as you lean forward. “You work at New Home Sanctuary? Have you gotten to work with the elephants? There’s a newborn--”

You cut off, blinking at the transformation that takes place. His eyelights shift from circles to full on spinning stars. You stare, fascinated. Blue picks up where you left off, “YES! I WAS PRESENT FOR THE BIRTH. THEY HAVE DECIDED TO NAME THE CALF ‘HOSHI’ BECAUSE OF THE CELESTIAL EVENT THAT TOOK PLACE THE NIGHT OF HER BIRTH.”

“Was that the meteor shower a couple of weeks ago?” you ask. It was the night of your sister’s graduation and you and your sister watched those stars until the sun came up. It screwed up both of your sleep schedules, but it didn’t matter. You were together. “It’s pretty impressive that you were involved in the birthing process as a newer employee.”

“WELL, OF COURSE THEY WANTED THE GREAT AND MAGNIFICENT S-- _ BLUE _ INVOLVED! MWEH HEH HEH. IT ALSO HELPS THAT I HAVE GRAVITY MAGIC TO ASSIST IN THE BIRTHING PROCESS.”

Your eyes go wide. “Oh right! That would be useful. Just how heavy are elephant calves?”

“USUALLY AROUND 220 POUNDS! HOSHI WAS A BIT BIGGER THAN USUAL, SHE WEIGHED 250!” Blue says.

“Wow,” you say, genuinely impressed. “You’re really strong, Blue.”

It’s his turn for his sockets to go wide. “I--WELL, YES. MY TRAINING AS A MEMBER OF THE GUARD WAS VERY THOROUGH. BUT THAT IS ENOUGH ABOUT ME, WHAT IS YOUR OCCUPATION?”

You open your mouth to respond, just as the bell above the door chimes again. You look up, catching sight of the rest of the skeletons. They enter Shorty’s, both Papyri with looks of slight displeasure while Sans…

Well, Sans looks like he’s in heaven.

He beelines to you, throwing an arm around your shoulder as he takes a seat. “babe, did you read my mind? this place is perfect.”

“SANS!” your Papyrus snaps and Sans’ arm glows with blue energy as it is lifted free of your shoulder and Sans is scooted off the booth and onto the floor. “THAT IS INAPPROPRIATE BEHAVIOR. THE HUMAN DOES NOT DESERVE YOUR HARASSMENT.”

“aw boss, they don’t mind it. do ya, trouble?” Sans asks, smirking up at you from the floor.

“It, uh, wasn’t as bad as that Papyrus,” you say. “I definitely wouldn’t call it ‘harassment.’” You eye Sans for a moment, before offering him a hand up. “It was a bit of an excessive gesture, Sans.”

“AS LONG AS YOU DO NOT HAVE A PROBLEM WITH IT,” Papyrus says a bit stiffly. His red eyelights snap to his brother. “AND YOU! BEHAVE YOURSELF!”

“`course boss,” Sans says breezily.

Your Papyrus breezes by his brother, crowding you further into the booth. You hide a smile at the extended groan that Sans makes and his muttered, ‘ _ really, boss? _ ’, but everyone gets situated without further incident.

You wait as they all place their orders, happily sharing your fried pickles with Sans as they get situated. “So,” you say, focusing on celebrity Papyrus. “Were you able to get into contact with your brother?”

“ALAS, NO,” Papyrus says. “THAT LAZYBONES PROBABLY HAS HIS PHONE TURNED OFF.”

“I COULDN’T GET INTO CONTACT WITH STRETCH EITHER,” Blue says, looking a bit nervous. “HE USUALLY MAKES A POINT TO GIVE ME A CALL DAILY, BUT HE DIDN’T MANAGE IT YESTERDAY. IT’S POSSIBLE THAT HE GOT CAUGHT UP IN HIS RESEARCH…”

“There does tend to be a lack of service up in the mountains,” you say, reaching out to pat Blue’s hand. You understand the worry in his eyes all too well. There is little you would not do for your sister. It’s why you’re here after all. “I wasn’t able to place a call until I was on my way out. Are they deep in the mountains?”

“I AM UNCERTAIN,” Blue says. “STRETCH HASN’T SAID WHERE EXACTLY THEY ARE WORKING. IT SEEMS LIKELY THAT THEY ARE MOVING AROUND A BIT.”

“Seems like they’ve been tight-lipped about it,” you say, voice too tight and even.

“WELL, THAT IS IMPOSSIBLE GIVEN THAT WE POSSESS NO LIPS,” celebrity Papyrus exclaims. You snort a bit at that, missing the sparkle that enters his eyelights as you do. But the others don’t. 

“don’t mean we can’t give ya a smooch though, if that was a concern,” Sans says, leaning around his brother to watch you. “just say the word.”

You laugh outright at that. “Oh yes. That has been a grave concern of mine.” You pause as Fred puts the pizza pillow before you, giving him thanks as you chow down. “Actually, there has been something on my mind.”

“AND WHAT IS THAT, HUMAN?” your Papyrus asks.

“Nicknames,” you reply, looking around at them. “I’m not sure about you, but it’s been a little difficult to keep track of...well, who is who when I’m talking. And I’m sure it’ll only get worse when we meet up with the others. So,” You look at celebrity Papyrus, “what should I call you?”

“YOU...WISH TO GIVE ME A NICKNAME?” Papyrus says, skull flushing orange. “I, UH, HAVE NOT HAD A CHANCE TO PREPARE A NICKNAME; THIS WAS NEVER AN OUTCOME THAT I EXPECTED!”

You look at Blue. “How were your nicknames determined? ‘Blue’ and ‘Stretch’ seem kind of unique; there has to be a reason behind them right?”

“WELL, MY FULL NICKNAME IS ‘BLUEBERRY,’ FOR MY STATURE AND OBVIOUS SWEETNESS, AS WELL AS THE COLOR OF MY MAGIC. STRETCH WAS NICKNAMED FOR HIS SMOOTH MOVES; HE MAY NOT LOOK IT, BUT HE IS A MASTER AT REACHING INACCESSIBLE PLACES!”

“Huh,” you say. “Colorwise, your magic’s orange? ‘Orange’ isn’t the best nickname.”

“IMPOSTER?” your Papyrus offers.

You nudge him slightly, ignoring the affronted look he gives you.

“PAPAYA?” Blue says. “IT’S AN ORANGE FRUIT.”

“clementine?” Sans says, warming to the task.

“Could shorten it to Clem,” you say. “And it seems to match the color of your internal magic. It’s also sweeter than a plain orange and you seem like a pretty sweet guy.” You pull up a picture of a clementine, holding it up next to his heavy blush before offering your phone to him. “What do you think?”

“THAT…” Papyrus’ voice catches and you’re shocked to see how close he is to tears. “THAT IS A NICE NICKNAME. I WOULD BE HONORED FOR YOU TO CALL ME BY IT.” He grabs your hand as he passes back the phone. “DOES THIS MEAN THAT WE’RE...FRIENDS?”

You return his grasp on your hand. “I should think so. This isn’t what you would call normal circumstances, but I don’t regret meeting you.”

Papyrus-- _ Clem _ \--nods, releasing your hand so you can take your phone back.

“AND WHAT SHOULD MY NICKNAME BE?” your Papyrus asks. You can hear something in his voice, you aren’t sure what, but it makes you lean up against him slightly, just to show your support. “THE GREAT AND TERRIBLE PAPYRUS DESERVES A NICKNAME OF SIMILAR CALIBER!”

“EDGE?” Blue offers hesitantly. “YOU’RE CERTAINLY, ER...SHARP.”

You frown, pressing closer to Papyrus. “That doesn’t sound like a compliment.”

Blue flushes, averting his gaze. 

You hum, thinking hard. “What about ‘Boss?’” 

“what,” Sans says. It isn’t a question, just a flat statement.

You glance at him in concern. “It’s what  _ you _ call him,” you defend. “And he  _ is _ a boss monster.”

“W-WELL, IT WOULD SHOWCASE MY AUTHORITY,” Papyrus says, skull the brightest red that you’ve ever seen it. “IT SEEMS SUIT--”

“no,” Sans says flatly, grimacing. 

You stare at him, seeing how dim his eyelights are. Maybe it’s a nickname just for Sans and Papyrus? Maybe you’ve overstepped your boundaries in some way? You don’t know all the intricacies of monster culture, maybe there are nicknames only for close family members. “Alright. We’ll come up with something else.”

You take a few bites of your pizza pillow, enjoying the spiced marinara and gooey cheese, as you try to come up with a different nickname. 

“coal,” Sans offers. “his eyelights glow like burning coals, ready to stoke the fire higher.”

“That’s a good nickname,” you say, a bit impressed. “And it even matches his magic. Coal,” you repeat, testing out the way it sounds. “What do you think, Papyrus?”

You look up at him, surprised to find his eyelights--wow, they really are like burning embers, ready to blaze into an inferno--trained on your lips. He realizes that your attention is on him and he blushes. 

“THAT...IS A SUITABLE NICKNAME,” Papyrus--Coal, Coal,  _ Coal _ , you repeat to yourself--says. “YES, I LIKE IT. WELL DONE SANS!” He stops, peering at his brother. “I SUPPOSE WE NEED TO COME UP WITH A NICKNAME FOR YOU AS WELL.”

“red works,” Sans says. “it’s the color of my magic and short; like me.” His eyelights brighten at the sound of your laughter. His sockets lid as he stares at you. “it’s the color of determination and passion; sounds about right in regards to you, trouble.”

You shake your head as Coal releases a noise of disgust. “So, Blue, Clem, Coal, Red,” you say, looking at each of them in turn, “now that we’ve got that sorted. What’s the plan?”

“WELL, WE’LL HEAD OUT INTO THE MOUNTAINS TO RECOVER OUR BROTHERS,” Clem says. “GIVEN THE...PARTICULARS OF WHAT YOU’VE FOUND, Y/N, IT IS OF UTMOST IMPORTANCE THAT WE TALK TO THEM AND GET MORE CONCRETE ANSWERS.”

“Yeah, communication seems to be failing on most fronts,” you say. You catch the guilt on Blue and Clem’s faces, and you hastily continue. “I don’t think that’s anyone’s fault; communication is difficult even when you discuss it explicitly. Communication is key, yes, but it’s also hard.”

“MY BROTHER IS NOT THE MOST FORTHCOMING INDIVIDUAL,” Clem says, sockets downcast. “IT IS SOMETHING WE HAVE ATTEMPTED TO REMEDY ON MULTIPLE OCCASIONS BUT...SIGH. I SUPPOSE WE WILL HAVE THE DISCUSSION AGAIN AND HOPE THAT IT STICKS.”

“IT IS IMPORTANT TO ESTABLISH ACCOUNTABILITY,” Coal says. “MAKE SURE HE IS AWARE OF THE RAMIFICATIONS OF HIS ACTIONS.” He reaches out, placing an arm around you. You glance at him, wondering for a moment why he considered it inappropriate for his brother and yet not for him. “HIS LACK OF COMMUNICATION HAS LEFT MORE THAN ONE PERSON SCATHED IN THE AFTERMATH.”

“INDEED,” Blue says, reaching out and taking your hand. You let him, though you feel a bit bad about the grease on your fingertips. He doesn’t seem to notice or, more likely, care. “Y/N, I APOLOGIZE FOR THE WAY THAT YOU HAVE BEEN PULLED INTO OUR SHENANIGANS. IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO REMAIN IN NEW HOME WHILE WE TRACK OUR BROTHERS--”

“No,” you interrupt, desperation clawing at your breast. “I won’t stay behind. I’m the one who’s missing their sister; the one who found the other disappearances. I need to be there.” You can’t stand the thought of going back to your condo, being there  _ alone _ with only your thoughts as company. You’d go insane. “Besides, my grandmother has a cabin out there; we can use it as the central base as you track down your brothers.”

“OF COURSE,” Blue says, brow furrowed in concern. “WHATEVER YOU WISH. I JUST DIDN’T WANT TO INCONVENIENCE YOU FURTHER.”

“THE HUMAN IS STRONG,” Coal says. “THEY WILL BE FINE.”

Is he reassuring Blue, you, or himself? Regardless, you smile at him. “Thank you. It isn’t an inconvenience for me. I have time off for the next few weeks. If this can bring me any closer to my sister…” You clear your throat. “Well, it’ll be a worthwhile endeavor.”

“how long do ya expect this to take?” Red asks, leaning around his brother to swipe a bite of your food.

“IT COULD TAKE A FEW DAYS,” Clem admits. “HOWEVER, I DO NOT BELIEVE IT SHOULD TAKE THAT LONG!” He pulls out a clunky device and you stare at it, taking in the signature 80s retro style that all monster technology has. “THIS DEVICE TRACKS MAGICAL OUTPUT; WE SHOULD BE ABLE TO USE IT TO HONE IN ON THEIR LOCATION. NOT TO MENTION THE FACT THAT I AM AN EXPERT AT PATROLLING!”

“AS AM I!” Blue chimes in, his eyelights shifting to stars once more. “I WAS CO-CAPTAIN OF THE GUARD FOR A REASON!”

“I DOUBT EITHER OF YOU HAVE THE SKILLS TO MATCH MY ABILITY TO PATROL, BUT I WILL BE GRATEFUL FOR THE ASSISTANCE NEVERTHELESS,” Coal says, sniffing haughtily.

“Alright,” you say, mind already looking ahead. You have an overnight bag with enough to take care of you for a few days and groceries that will pair well with all of the nonperishables in your grandmother’s cabin. You’re as ready as you’ll ever be. You pass what’s left of your pizza pillow to Red, who puts it away quicker than you’d expect. Where does food go in skeletons? It hasn’t seeped through their rib cages, so you guess you’d get a generic answer like ‘it’s magic’ should you ask. “Let’s do this.”

* * *

You push your sunglasses off the bridge of your nose to nestle in your hair as you stare up at the cabin. You weren’t expecting to be back so soon and something aches sweetly in your chest to see it backlit with the afternoon sun. 

You look at Coal, lips pulling up unwillingly at the sight. He’s wearing a pair of your spare sunglasses, taped to his skull with floral washi tape. They’re a pair of black shades in the Jackie O style and, despite the odd juxtaposition of Coal’s fashion sense with these glasses, he absolutely rocks them. Glancing in the rearview mirror, you see Red in the novelty star-shaped sunglasses that you usually keep in your glove compartment. Honestly, you just can’t get over it.

“You both look fantastic,” you say honestly as you climb out of the car.

Clem pulls up behind you in his red convertible as Blue dismounts his motorcycle. Blue tucks his helmet under his arm as he approaches you. 

“THIS IS VERY NICE PROPERTY, Y/N!” Blue says.

“Thank you Blue, but it’s not…” you pause, thinking about it. “Well, I guess it is mine. Partially at least.” You smile at them. “Will you be able to make your way back here during your patrols?”

“YES!” Clem says, holding out his phone. “I HAVE DROPPED A ‘PIN’ ON THE LOCATION SO THAT I CAN FIND IT ONCE MORE!”

“so let’s put a  _ pin _ in this conversation,” Red says. “we’re wasting daylight. we’ll get ahold of classic and stretch and meet back here.”

The conversation lulls as they all turn to look at you.

“HUMAN, IT MIGHT--”

“Y/N, I DO NOT ADVISE--”

“I DO NOT THINK--”

“trouble, this may be--”

They all stop, looking at each other.

You raise your hands in surrender. “Don’t worry, I’m not planning on marching out into the woods. I’ve been out in these woods before, I know how vast they are. I don’t plan on interfering with your patrols. You have magic to assist you; I know when I’m outclassed. I’ll stick here at the cabin. Get things set up.”

They all nod, looking relieved. You shake your head, wondering if they were expecting some sort of argument.

You want your sister back, but you’re not an idiot. You will only impede their process and there are things you can do around here.

“IF YOU ARE CERTAIN,Y/N,” Blue says. “WE WILL GO AHEAD AND SET OFF. WE WILL BE BACK THIS EVENING, PROBABLY AFTER DARK.”

“I’ll keep the home fires burning,” you say wryly. “I’ll cook some dinner too.”

“WOWIE!” Clem says. “A HOMEMADE MEAL!” He flushes, gaze averted. “I WASN’T EXPECTING TO SKIP THESE STEPS IN THE MANUAL, BUT I’LL FOLLOW YOUR LEAD, HUMAN!”

You eye him quizzically, but aren’t given a chance to ask as Coal grabs his scarf and pulls him off in a random direction.

“Are they alright?” you ask.

“they’ll be fine, danger,” Red says, eyelights following the two Papyri. “whatta `bout ya? ya gonna be safe at this cabin?”

“I’ll be fine,” you say. You look between Red and Blue. “Stay safe out there.”

You watch them leave before taking the groceries out of your car as well as your overnight bag. You make your way up to the cabin, climbing the stairs with some reluctance. You’ve only been inside a few times since your grandmother’s passing, but it’s just as hard as the first time. You see the papery-thin skin, the watery glazed eyes, and hear the monitor flatlining…

You shake your head, juggling your groceries to get the key in the front door. You don’t take a look at your surroundings, knowing exactly what you would find. Instead, you move into the kitchen.

All the utensils are in their proper place and your eyes catch on the slightly warped metal spatula, remembering all the early mornings spent making chocolate chip pancakes and bacon, the scent lingering throughout the cabin.

You blink away these memories, rummaging through the pantry to scrounge up the other necessary ingredients. You aren’t sure if any of the skeletons like or have even had chili before, but you have the time and the means to make it.

You set about filling the crockpot with hearty beans, spices, and canned tomatoes, turning it on a low setting before grabbing a knife to cut up fresh vegetables. You start cutting the onions, eyes watering slightly.

You raise your arm, pressing your sleeve against your eyes, just as something grabs a hold of your SOUL. You pitch forward, barely bracing your hands safely on the marble countertop.

“Papyrus?” you call.

Your SOUL is yanked to the side and you fight to keep it in your chest, which drags your body along as well. You look around through bleary eyes, feeling completely off balance.

“Sans?” you try.

The magic around your SOUL eases slightly and you sigh, before your SOUL is fairly wrenched forward and free of your chest. The environment around you goes dark, coloring in shades of black and white.

“where’d you learn my name,  _ pal _ ?”

You wipe your eyes against your sleeve roughly, looking in the direction of the voice. Before you stands a Sans, though not one you know. He is large, taller and wider than you, with sharp canines and a single red eyelight glowing dangerously. And, the most apparent difference of all, is the gaping hole that caves in half of his skull.

“Sans?” you say softly, imploringly. “Are you--are you alright?”

His grin looks like more of a grimace as he stares at you. “you didn’t answer my question, kid. where’d you learn my name? you best answer me or you’re going to have a  **b a d t i m e** .”


	9. Chapter 9

“don’t you know it’s rude to ignore a new friend,  _ pal _ ?” Sans says, one of his hands twitching as it raises toward his glowing eye socket. 

“I know your name because I’ve met another…” What to call it? Iteration? Copy? Alternate universe equivalent? “...version of you,” you say, feeling a bit awkward. It’s such a strange thing to claim and you don’t know if he’ll take it at face value. Hell, if you hadn’t been confronted with the reality of it, you doubt you’d believe it either.

His resounding silence isn’t encouraging.

“There was some sort of anomaly,” you say. “A magical surge that drew alternate versions of yourself and Papyrus into this universe.”

“heh, i may have a big appetite, but i can’t  _ stomach  _ the story you’re telling. that’s the end of your turn, bud,” he says. The red glow around his eyelight brightens and you tense, feeling the increase in his magic’s output. “now it’s mine.”

Your SOUL turns bright blue as it is yanked to the ground. You wince, rubbing at your chest in circles. You’ve been in Encounters--with a multitude of purposes like friendship, flirting, and sparring--but all of them were, at their base, playful. This, the Intent behind it, is so much heavier and more brutal than you’re used to. It feels sharp, desperate, and a helluva lot like fear. He lobs multiple bone attacks at you and you manage to dodge most of them, ending up in closer range of Sans. Your HP takes a bit of a hit, but you’re still standing strong.

Your turn.

Sans now has his fingers hooked into his eyesocket, pulling at the bone there. It looks painful, but you’ve seen soothing tics before; hell, you have a few yourself.

“Listen, you don’t have to believe me; it’s a bit of a story to  _ swallow _ ,” you say, raising your hands. You realize that the knife is still in your hand and you toss it out of reach of both of you. Sans’ eyelight tracks its movement before snapping back to you. “Believe this, I do not want to harm you.”

His grin twitches into something a little more genuine at your poor joke and you remember how Red responded to puns and humor. That might be a worthwhile avenue to pursue. His fingers ease their grip on his eyesocket. You see his eyelight flicker, dimming before brightening again. If you had to guess, he is checking you.

You keep yourself still and loose, not trying to hide your SOUL from his gaze.

You have nothing to hide.

His turn ends and he watches you expectantly, the desperate edge to his Intent disappearing. You watch him in turn, something aching in you at the clear hard times he’s experienced. You can’t help but compare him to Red and Blue. His bones, while wider and larger, seem more fragile, a little more discolored. His teeth are somewhere between Red and Blue’s, the canines sharp but the rest shaped more like human teeth. And that hole in his cranium concerns you, the way it caves in the left side of his frontal and parietal bones. How the hell is he still standing?

You want to help him.

“So, uh, you found my story in  _ poor taste _ , huh?” you say, gratified by the little wheezing snort that whistles through his nasal bone. “Trust me, I’m not handling it too much better.”

When his turn rolls around again, your SOUL is spared and you drop to your knees as it moves back into your chest. It’s a little battered, but you’re really no worse for the wear, just a little breathless. A little Sea Tea will fix you right up.

Sans approaches you, guilt averting his gaze as you rub your chest. He gingerly offers a hand to you. “sorry about that, kid.”

“No worries,” you reply, taking his hand and letting him pull you to your feet. “You just took my breath away.”

His hand flexes around yours for a moment before he huffs a laugh, releasing you to scratch his cheekbone. “heh, that’s…”

He trails off and you watch him patiently for a moment before you hear your crockpot ding.

“Oh!” you say. “The chili! I need to finish cutting the onions and getting everything going.” You dart away from Sans, reaching for the knife. Only for a much larger hand to cover yours. You look up into Sans’ red eyelight. “What’s wrong?” you ask, half-expecting to be pulled into another Encounter.

“could i--is it alright if i handle the knife?” he asks, voice rough and low. You aren’t exactly sure how to read skeleton facial expressions, not yet, but if you had to guess Sans looks afraid? Ashamed? “i just--”

He trails off. You turn your hand over, so your palm meets his as you try to offer him some comfort. “You don’t need to explain yourself,” you say. You get the feeling that he doesn’t feel safe--with the knife, with you, with both, it doesn’t matter--and you want to make him comfortable. Besides, monsters don’t really use weapons; they manifest them from their magic. If he wants to harm you, you doubt he’ll use the knife. You slip your hand out from under his and stand up. “Could you finish chopping the onions for me? I’ll start shredding the chicken.”

You move back to the kitchen and rustle around in the groceries you brought for the canister of Sea Tea. You put a kettle on just as Sans lumbers into the room. You notice he handles the knife, which looks pitifully tiny in his hand, warily, but he moves to the cutting board and starts slicing the onions.

“How long have you been on the Surface?” you ask, trying to start a conversation.

“a week,” he says.

“And how are you finding it?” you ask. 

“it’s, uh, a lot,” Sans replies. “a lot more food than was underground at least.”

You frown slightly, hands pausing for a second before you continue shredding the chicken. “Really?” you ask lightly. You haven’t heard anything about food shortages Underground in this timeline and Red and Coal have yet to mention it. Is it something unique to this Sans’s timeline? “Well, I’m glad you’re finding your time on the Surface more bountiful.” You turn directly toward him, slightly jealous of how unfazed he is by the sting of the onions. “You are, of course, welcome to join me for dinner. Well,  _ us _ .”

The chopping stops. “who’s  _ us _ ?”

“The, uh, other yous and Papyruses,” you say, a bit uncomfortable. The kettle whistles and you pull it off, pouring the hot water into two mugs. “Where is your brother? Is he--”

“he’s on patrol,” Sans says stiffly, prickly guard coming up again at the reminder of your knowledge of him and his brother. “he’s checking the traps he set and making sure no one is coming into our territory.” His eyelight darts to you and his shoulders relax. “seems you, uh, slipped his  _ guard _ .”

“I wasn’t trying to,” you say honestly, stirring honey into your mug. You need the little lift of sweetness to combat the natural brine of Sea Tea. You’ll let Sans prepare his however he likes it. “I’m surprised we-- _ I _ \--didn’t run into either of you earlier this week; I was in and out of this area quite a bit.” 

“we’ve been migrating around a bit,” Sans says. “traveling, never staying in one location. makes it easier to hunt.”

“You mentioned traps,” you say, passing the second mug of Sea Tea to Sans. He stares down into the mug for a long moment, seeming lost in thought, before snapping his attention back to you. “Do those help you hunt?”

Sans hums, hand fully encompassing the mug. “they do. there’s a lot of variety in wildlife out here.”

“Yeah,” you say, leaning against the counter beside him as he finishes chopping up the onions. “I remember being out on the trail a couple of years ago and seeing a bobcat. A couple years before that, there was a ball python. Some people release their exotic pets out here when they realize they can’t care for them.” You shake your head, lip twisting. “In any case, gave me and my sister quite a scare.”

“huh,” Sans says, passing you the cutting board full of onions. You pour them into the crockpot, stirring them into the mix and turning up the heat. “haven’t had snake before.”

You snort, moving to wash the dishes. “It doesn’t really taste like much; a bit like less flavorful, watered-down fish.”

“good to know,” Sans says, giving you an appraising look. He redirects his attention to his mug, taking long sips. You watch him discreetly from the corner of your eyes, disappointed when the green magic doesn’t seem to affect him. Your HP is back to full and you feel a bit more lively and alert. “...you said you have a sister?”

He says it like he needs confirmation that he heard you right, so, despite the stab of pain that jars you to even hear her mentioned, you nod. “Yes,” you say, focusing on the sudsy water and dishes. It’s easier than meeting his gaze. “It’s the reason I came back to the cabin today. There’s something--” You stop, thinking for a moment. “Wait, have you and Papyrus been living here? I know you said that you were traveling around, but how’d you even know I was in here?”

“about that,” Sans says and you can see the blue glow of sweat lining his skull. You stare at it, fascinated by the contrast between it and his red eyelight. “i stumbled across this place a couple of days ago. seemed like a good home base. defensible from threats.” Your brow furrows. “i, uh, didn’t think there was an occupant? i figured it was recently abandoned.” His eyelight dilates as he assesses you. “can see now that was wrong.”

You note the shortness of his sentences and wonder if it’s from curtness or from his head wound. You’re inclined to go with the latter. “It’s alright,” you say belatedly, as you realize he’s waiting for a response of some sort. “This is-- _ was _ my grandmother’s place. No one currently lives here, though we sometimes come out here to get away. Being on the lake is a nice vacation.”

“oh yeah?” Sans says, perking up a little with interest. “what’s it like outside? haven’t left the forest.”

“It’s--” you cut yourself short, hearing the pounding of feet as someone climbs the front stair to the entrance.

“SANS!” the figure booms, throwing open the front door. The monster, a skeleton like the others, is absolutely massive, towering above you, Sans, and even Coal. He’s broad too, though still with a lankiness you associate with both Papyri you’ve met. He ducks as he enters the front door, before standing to his full height once more. “SANS THERE ARE--” His voice peters out as he notices your presence. “SANS, WHY IS THERE A HUMAN IN OUR ABODE?”

You wave a hand at him awkwardly, introducing yourself. You can’t see the skeleton’s face, backlit as he is by the setting sun. He ambles forward and you move around the counter, wanting to meet him halfway.

“I AM THE GREAT PAPYRUS!” You approach him, smiling at the familiar greeting. You squint against the glare of the sun, almost able to-- “IT IS WON--”

“What happened?” you interrupt as you finally catch sight of Papyrus’ face. His teeth are a mess, jagged and mangled, grown beyond his jaw. He cannot even close his mouth comfortably. Your SOUL lurches, viscerally pained to see someone in such a state. You catch one of his arms with one hand, pulling him closer as you push up onto tiptoe. You reach out with your free hand, just barely able to cup his jaw. “Who hurt you like this?”

His sockets, smaller and rounder than Coal’s and Clem’s, widen at your touch and your question. There’s a flare of magic (Sans?) and you suddenly realize how inappropriate you’re being, grabbing hold of someone you’ve only just met. Still, seeing someone who looks so similar to Coal and Clem in so much pain…

Truthfully, you think you may have responded the same way regardless of the person. Your grandmother always said you had a bleeding heart…

You pull your hand away from his face, flushing and clearing your throat as you do so. Papyrus follows the movement, pressing his skull into your hand as long as he can before it fully retreats. You start to shift your hand from his arm, but he takes it instead.

“I’m sorry,” you say as he bends at the waist, nearly on eye level with you. “That was inappropriate of me. I was just...are you alright?”

“I AM QUITE ALRIGHT, HUMAN,” Papyrus says. His sockets narrow and you can see a faint glow in them, like the eyelights of the others. His are a brilliant white. He shifts slightly, an orange flush overtaking his cheeks. “I APOLOGIZE FOR STARTLING YOU WITH MY PHYSIQUE; MY GREATNESS TAKES SOME GETTING USED TO!”

“It wasn’t that,” you say forcefully, hating the embarrassment that leaks into his voice. You kick yourself for a moment for botching this introduction and making Papyrus uncomfortable, but you figure it’s best to try to clear the air. “I’ll admit, it was a little startling, but I’m not afraid of you or anything.” You pat the hand that engulfs your other one. “I was and still am worried about the fact that it seems to hurt you. Does it?”

Papyrus is silent and so is Sans. You feel tension in the air, but you aren’t sure where it’s coming from or how to ease it. You settle on smiling reassuringly at Papyrus, squeezing his hand with both of yours.

* * *

Papyrus stares at you, SOUL almost trembling in awe. Your appearance is a bit fuzzy; his eyesight isn’t as keen as it used to be, as during the Famine his magic sapped away the energy focused to his eyelights to keep more necessary functions going. Even now, with a full stomach (and stars, even a week after arriving on the Surface that  _ still _ gets him; he never thought he’d experience such a satisfying sensation again), his eyelights haven’t readjusted. He isn’t sure if his magic is focusing on restoring other processes or if this is a permanent change.

Like his teeth.

You are...unexpected. You are so little; he hasn’t seen anyone of your size in...well, over a year. He could scoop you up and hold you easily in one arm. He doesn’t, but he is sorely tempted, just to get more of your touch. You’re just so  _ warm _ ! His jaw aches sweetly, tingling still from your touch. And your hands, one beneath and one atop his, feel warm even through his threadbare gloves. He wants to peel the gloves away and hold your hands that way, but he doesn’t want to end the contact.

You are so gentle, the way you’re holding his hand is nice and sweet and full of affection that Papyrus hasn’t been able to afford since the start of the Famine. And even before that, there were so few that he  _ could _ engage with like that: Sans,  _ Undyne _ \--

He cuts that train of thought immediately, unwilling to explore the pain that is still fresh and raw everytime he looks at his brother’s skull.

Truthfully, the thing that Papyrus likes the most is that you aren’t afraid of him. You weren’t lying when you said that. Papyrus doesn’t have quite the people-reading skills that his brother does, but he learned to read Intent fairly well during the Famine. He had to, to survive. His eyesight may be dim, but he was always able to catch another monster’s Intentions, should they attack. And, unfortunately, the Famine drove some to such desperate measures.

But right here and now, recuperating to his former strength, Papyrus can tell that your Intentions are good. You’re worried for him as you said and you’re worried too for Sans. You want to help them, in whatever form that will take.

It’s a little blindsiding, to get caught up in such strong Intent from a person he’s only just met, but Papyrus finds that he doesn’t mind it.

He doesn’t mind  _ you _ .

“IT HURTS A BIT,” Papyrus admits in answer to your question. Your brows furrow further in concern. “HOWEVER, SUCH TRIVIAL PAIN IS NO MATCH FOR THE GREAT PAPYRUS! NYEH HEH HEH!”

You laugh, squeezing his hand. “You’re too cool, Papyrus.”

_ Oh _ . 

Warmth hits Papyrus in the chest and he chuckles with you in turn, amending his assessment of you slightly.

He thinks he may even like you.

* * *

Sans watches the interaction between you and his brother feeling a bit off-balanced. Maybe a little left out? You seem absorbed in each other and Sans knows--he  _ knows _ \--you aren’t a threat to them. Not right now.

He saw your SOUL after all.

He’s had Encounters with a handful of humans; a grisly business to be sure, but none of their SOULs looked like yours. Your SOUL is a brilliant, nearly blinding gold, radiating JUSTICE with a strength that leaves Sans feeling exhausted and nearly inadequate by comparison. And, unlike most of the SOULs he’s seen, another color ran through yours. Veins of steady purple, filling in spaces that appear to have once been cracks with PERSEVERANCE.

He thinks he’s seen another SOUL with multiple colors before, but his memory for specific details isn’t the best. And, truth be told, he knows they aren’t the sort of memories he wants to remember.

But you...Sans thinks he’ll remember you. You’re so strange, placating him, a strange monster, within a home that by all rights is yours. And you...trusted him. You willingly gave him a knife, even after he pulled you into an Encounter. You turned your  _ back _ , leaving yourself open and defenseless, on him, moments after your Encounter ended.

He isn’t sure if it’s just naivete that led you to do so. Usually, he would think so, that something about the Surface leaves humans soft and trusting while monsters were forced to harden themselves or die--

He’s getting off track. He unhooks his hand from his eye socket, grimacing at the lingering pain.

But your SOUL is riddled with cracks, cracks that have been sealed and fortified with PERSEVERANCE. Whatever happened to damage your SOUL would have stolen away any naivete you had, it would have to, for you to survive and even grow from the trauma.

So you trusted him out of  _ choice _ .

Something tugs at Sans’ chest and he grimaces, tucking his hands into his ratty hoodie. He feels bad about pulling you into an Encounter and causing you damage; you just spooked him. You are the first human he’s met on the Surface and, much as he hated what he did Underground, it’s become instinct. But he knows he was in the wrong; this is your territory and he encroached and even damaged you over it.

His mind drifts to the end of the Encounter, when you fell to the ground and he helped you up. When he thought you a threat, you seemed imposing, larger than life. But there, on the ground, you were so small and your hand was so fragile beneath his. He could feel the individual bones beneath your skin. Sans doesn’t know how human skeletons hold themselves together without magic, considering just how delicate you are. But there was a warmth to you, both physically and metaphorically, the way your eyes sparked as you flirted with him of all people.

And, as he helped you up, he couldn’t help but notice how good you smelled. Certainly, you smelled of sweat, but there was something else to it. A brightness maybe, or a liveliness to your scent that made Sans remember the first moments that he and Papyrus were on the Surface, staring up into the blinding, blistering sun. It’s overwhelming, but somehow, still not enough.

You look over at him, eyes crinkling up at the edges in a smile. “The chili still has a few hours to cook; would y’all like to join me on the porch to watch the stars come out?”

“sounds great, kid,” Sans says, grin widening as Papyrus enthusiastically agrees.

Sans has lived too long without the sun to let it go again.


	10. Chapter 10

You shift slightly in your rocking chair, watching the brothers on either side of you with interest. Their sockets are trained on the sky and, like this, you can really see their resemblance to Red and Coal. 

They all really love the sky.

Your gaze lingers on their harsher features, the hole in Sans’ skull, the damage to Papyrus’ teeth. They bear the signs of survival, the scars a testament to their fortitude. You can understand that. What could possibly have caused that kind of lasting damage?

Sans doesn’t tear his eye from the sky, but he says, “your SOUL’s shivering there, kid. wanna give me a  _ piece of your mind _ ?” He gestures flippantly toward the vast blackness cracking his skull.

Your lips quirk up at that and you say, hoping against hope that you aren’t overstepping bounds, “What? Need me to  _ fill in the gaps _ ?”

_ That _ catches Sans’ attention; he turns from the sky to regard you. His eyelight seems dim and you open your mouth, already tripping over your apology when he begins to laugh, a deep gut-rolling laugh as he clutches his sides. “stars,” he wheezes. “damn, kid, you really don’t pull the punches do ya? no skirting around awkward topics?”

You flush, glancing between him and Papyrus. Neither of them seem angry but-- “Look, I didn’t mean to overstep--”

“nah, you didn’t,” Sans reassures you, swiping a blue-tinted tear from the corner of his unlit socket. “i appreciate someone with an  _ eye  _ for forthrightness.”

“Just one eye?” you ask before you can help yourself. You immediately slap a hand to your mouth, hating your quick (and probably mean) wit.

Sans snorts, just as Papyrus makes a noise of frustration. “SANS, QUIT CORRUPTING THE HUMAN WITH YOUR TOMFOOLERY!”

“pretty sure they started it, paps,” Sans says.

“I’m afraid I am the culpable one,” you add. 

“YOU HAD A QUESTION FOR US, Y/N, DID YOU NOT?” Papyrus says, peering at you. You blink at him, surprised. “YOUR BODY LANGUAGE MAKES THAT CLEAR.”

“Ah, yeah,” you say, clearing your throat. “I was just wondering what your experience was like Underground?” They both tense and you feel the snap of magic. “You aren’t required to tell me anything if you’re feeling uncomfortable.” They both look so strained, you feel the need to explain yourself to them. “It just seems like it was a dangerous place is all. For you both to get so hurt--”

“THERE WAS A FAMINE,” Papyrus says, turning his sockets up to the sky. It seems to calm him.

“paps,” Sans says weakly, in protest.

“NO SANS,” Papyrus says firmly. “NO SECRETS. WE AGREED ON THAT UNDERGROUND. I...I DO NOT WANT TO BREAK THAT PROMISE NOW THAT WE’VE REACHED THE SURFACE.”

“but that’s between us,” Sans says, sockets darting to you as sweat dots his brow.

“UNDERGROUND YES,” Papyrus says over your protests. “BUT THAT WAS A NECESSITY. WE ARE ON THE SURFACE NOW AND--” His sockets turn to you. “--THE SURFACE SEEMS QUITE DIFFERENT. WE CAN BE STRONGER HERE; BETTER. WE CAN LET OTHERS IN.”

Sans remains quiet for several moments and you stand to give them privacy, understanding that they need to sort this out themselves, before his fingers latch around your wrist. You meet Sans’ ruined red eyelight. He looks nervous and a little miserable, but his touch is gentle. “stay.”

You swallow and take your seat once more. “Please, I don’t want to dredge up bad memories for you both; you don’t have to tell me anything.”

“WE KNOW THAT THIS IS A VOLUNTARY CHOICE, HUMAN,” Papyrus says, reaching out a lanky limb to touch your hand where it rests on the rocking chair arm. You give it to him happily, understanding the need to seek comfort. “THAT IS PRECISELY WHY WE MUST SHARE; I WANT TO RISE ABOVE THE PAST AND THIS IS THE BEST WAY FORWARD.”

“heh, you really are the coolest, bro,” Sans says after a moment. He sighs, body sinking into his chair like he wants to disappear. “well, the underground was a wonderful place to live up until about a year or two ago. all the monsters worked together, lots of hope. but then--” He trails off, eyelight dimming.

“THE FAMINE BEGAN,” Papyrus picks up when it becomes clear that Sans either can’t or won’t. “A HUMAN CHILD, FRISK--” You stiffen. “--FELL INTO THE UNDERGROUND. THEY WERE...WELL, THEY KILLED KING ASGORE AND LEFT THE UNDERGROUND. WITHOUT THE KING, FOOD BECAME SCARCE. THOUGH UN-- _ ANOTHER _ TOOK HIS PLACE, IT WASN’T ENOUGH. IT WAS TOO LATE.”

“we were starving,” Sans says. His fingers tug at his eye socket. “people started dusting left and right, losing the will to live. and those left behind consumed that dust. some even, uh--” Sans squirms.

“SOME PEOPLE STARTED DOING THE DUSTING,” Papyrus says, pulling his hand from you and clenching it into a fist. You pale, SOUL trembling at the thought. “THEY WERE STARVING AND TRYING TO SURVIVE.”

“then, a human fell,” Sans says. His magic crackles across your skin, not attacking, but almost swirling in defense of him. Tears prick your eyes. “we...we did what we needed to survive. to help others survive.”

“IT WASN’T--WE NEVER ENJOYED WHAT WE WERE DOING--” Papyrus cuts off, looking you over. “Human?” his voice is the softest you’ve heard it.

“I’m sorry,” you say, swiping at your eyes, unable to get the tears to stop. 

“ _ you’re _ sorry?” Sans says, incredulous.

“WHY?” Papyrus asks, sockets wide.

Both of them are looking at you, hands hovering like they want to touch you but not quite doing so. You wonder if they’re afraid you’ll shy away now, now that you know the truth. You swipe your nose against your sleeve before taking both of their hands, trying to assuage their worries.

“It--it had to be so hard for you,” you say, voice hoarse and thick with tears. You take a few deep breaths, trying to gather your thoughts. “Over a year spent on the edge of starvation, with your friends dying around you, with your friends turning on each other--” You exhale. “You’ve both survived an immense trauma. I’m sorry you had to suffer it in the first place.”

“kid,” Sans begins, grin straining as more sweat lines his temples. His eyelight is focused on your hand covering his, identifying the obvious contrasts. How the hell can you so easily hold the hand of a killer? “i think you’re missing the big picture here. we ate other monsters. we ate humans. why the hell aren’t you running away?”

“Did you eat them out of preference?” you ask bluntly, squeezing their hands. Both of them recoil from you, repulsed. “ _ Would _ you go out of your way to do it again, now that you’re on the Surface?”

“stars no!” Sans says, looking ill.

“That’s why I’m not running away,” you say calmly, tears no longer flowing. Your SOUL aches for them, for all of those Underground in their universe who experience such hardship. “It’s like you said, Papyrus, it comes down to choice. You  _ didn’t _ have a choice; it was a matter of survival.”

They are both quiet and you let the silence linger, turning your gaze out over the lake as they gather themselves. If they shed a few tears of their own, that’s no one’s business but theirs. All throughout, you keep holding their hands. You won’t let them go until they’re ready and it seems they are not.

“you’re...something else, kid,” Sans says finally. “you’re pretty calm.”

You shrug, the movement drawing their hands over onto your chair. They leave them there, so you assume it’s fine. “This sort of thing happens among humans too; during desperate times people without supplies will eat each other to survive.” You stay quiet for a moment, warring with yourself over what you want to say. It may be unnecessary, but you would rather have it out there so doubt doesn’t fester. “I don’t think less of you for what you had to do. It was survival, plain and simple. You’ve both had the opportunity to kill me,” --Sans’ hand spasms around yours-- “and you didn’t. So, I’m not afraid of either of you.”

“HUMAN!” You startle as Papyrus uses his grip on your hand to pull you up and up and up, into his arms. You end up with your feet dangling more than a foot from the ground, with Papyrus coddling you against his chest. You can feel his jaw above your head as he runs a hand down your back. For a skeleton, he is surprisingly nice to cuddle against and you wrap your arms around him in turn. “YOU ARE REALLY SWELL!” Swell? Oh my gosh, he’s honestly the cutest. He pulls you away from him slightly, so you can meet his eye sockets. Your arms are looped loosely around his shoulders and his head cocks slightly to the side. “WOULD YOU DO ME THE HONOR OF BEING MY FIRST FRIEND ON THE SURFACE?”

You flush beneath the sincerity you read in his gaze. Has anyone ever requested friendship from you in such a passionate and straightforward manner? Your mind is drawing a blank. You grin at Papyrus, moving one hand to cup his cheek, thumb strumming along the bone. “It would be my pleasure, Papyrus.”

Papyrus stares at you and, being this close to his face, you can see his eyelights glowing brighter and brighter--

“ditto,” Sans says, breaking the moment. You crane your neck around, looking at the skeleton still slouched into his seat. He grins at you. “what do you say, kid? wanna be my pal?”

“SANS!” Papyrus stomps his foot, still holding you aloft effortlessly. “THAT IS NOT THE APPROPRIATE WAY TO ASK SOMEONE TO BE YOUR FRIEND! YOU SHOULDN’T TACK YOUR REQUEST ONTO MINE!”

“what can i say, bro? you’re too cool.”

“HERE,” Papyrus says, setting you down gently before rounding on Sans. “THE HUMAN DESERVES THE BEST REQUEST YOU CAN MUSTER. SO GET ON YOUR FEET AND ASK THEM, YOU LAZY BONES!”

You watch their banter with a pang, seeing so much of the way you are your sister playfully argue reflected there. How would she like all of these quirky skeletons?

“kid,” Sans says, lumbering to his feet. Beside Papyrus, he seems small, but with you standing between them, they hover like giants. “sorry to get off to a rough start. my manners were lacking. let me try again; i’m sans, sans the skeleton.” He offers you his hand, grin widening nervously. “wanna be pals?”

You take his hand, smiling in return. “I would love to, Sans.”

His eyelight dilates and you watch it for a moment, fascinated by the clear flow of unconscious magic. You think it might form into a star like Blue’s, but it settles back into a circle quickly. 

You take a peek at the timer on your phone. There’s another hour left before the chili is ready.

“Have you been down to the lake yet?” you ask.

Before they can respond, you hear the call of “HUMAN! WE HAVE RETURNED VICTORIOUS!”

Coal.

A grin splits your face and you move toward the door, only to be blocked by Sans.

You glance up at him, puzzled.

“who’s that?” he asks, hand on your shoulder, pushing you behind him slightly as he scrutinizes the door. “that’s a lot of boss monsters.”

“Those are the other iterations,” you say. “Like I was saying before.”

“THOSE DO NOT FEEL LIKE US,” Papyrus says, also stepping out in front of you. For how large he is, Papyrus is surprisingly nimble. “HUMAN, PLEASE ALLOW US TO ENTER FIRST!”

Before you can respond, Sans is opening the door and flaring his magic.

There’s a pause, before the temperature abruptly drops a few degrees as the other monsters respond in kind. You can’t let this escalate into a full on brawl, not in the home your grandparents built.

“Sans,” you say, touching his arm. “It’s fine.” You shimmy your way past his broad frame, squeezing by and stumbling into the room. You right yourself, smiling a bit shakily. “We’re all friends here.”

The statement comes off as more of a question than you wanted it to, as you find yourself the focus of eight different skeletons. Your eyes trace over both the familiar and unfamiliar faces, lingering on the Sans you do not know. His eyelights are a bright, brilliant white and trained on you with an odd sense of...recognition?

“y-y/n--” he begins, sweat dotting his brow.

“ARE YOU WELL, HUMAN?” Coal interrupts, striding over to look you over. You submit to the pat-down and turn around with good grace, reading the worry and suspicion with which he regards the new Sans and Papyrus. You can’t help but wonder how the Sans of this universe knows your name already, but maybe he’s seen it on the university site?

“hey trouble,” Red says, swaggering forward to stand by his brother. His eyelights assess your form clinically, arresting on your face. They wink out of existence. “have--have you been crying?”

“A little,” you admit sheepishly, drawing a sleeve over your red and aching eyes. 

There’s a beat of silence.

“HOW  _ DARE _ YOU MAKE Y/N CRY!” Coal explodes, voice the loudest you’ve heard it. He whirls on the Sans and Papyrus who’ve followed you into the room, summoning a bone attack. You can feel his magic coalescing, Intent overwhelmingly threatening. “HAVE YOU NO DIGNITY? NO HONOR?”

“watch where you point that thing, bud,” Sans says, stepping in front of his brother. His ruined eyelight is the largest you’ve seen it, teeth grit in a grimace. The eyelight darts between you and Coal, taking in just how close he is standing, how close his attack is to you. “if ya aren’t careful you might hurt someone.”

“ya threatening my brother?” Red asks. “yer asking for a bad time.”

The waves of magic rolling off of everyone present is overwhelming, the force of their Intent demanding that you leave, that you hide. They aren’t directing it to you, but it still leaks over your SOUL. Your flight instincts are screaming at you, but you refuse to leave. 

“Stop!” you call, stepping in front of Coal and the glowing red bone he holds. You see a couple of the skeletons make aborted gestures toward you, Red especially trying to grab you out of the way. You meet Coal’s red eyelights, the shock and worry clear. Misguided as it is, he’s trying to protect you. “They didn’t do anything to make me cry,” you say. “I made myself cry. It happens sometimes; Red’s seen it.” 

Something flickers in Coal’s eyes; he darts a look at his brother. “IS THIS TRUE, SANS?”

“y-yeah boss,” Red says, looking between you two. You aren’t sure why he looks nervous. “danger cried the night we met.”

Coal’s expression shutters as he looks at you again, becoming unreadable.

“Yep,” you say, flushing a bit. This isn’t really a conversation you want to have in front of everyone here, but if it’ll deescalate the situation, it’ll be worth it. “Things have been a bit high intensity recently; crying is a way humans release overwhelming emotions.”

“THE SAME IS TRUE OF SKELETON MONSTERS,” Blue chimes in. You glance at him, grateful for assistance. “IT IS A HEALTHY COPING MECHANISM.”

You nod eagerly. “Yep. It was just a matter of me slacking extra emotions; no one made me cry.”

Coal scrutinizes you for a moment longer before the attack dissipates and, with it, most of the tension in the room. He looks at the two other skeletons, wariness still clear in his gaze. “VERY WELL. I APOLOGIZE FOR MY HASTY ACTIONS; I WAS SPURRED ON BY MY DUTY TO THOSE UNDER MY PROTECTION. I WAS IN THE WRONG, HOWEVER.”

Sans and Papyrus still appear shell-shocked by the entire situation, but they pull back their magic. You turn to them, trying to wordlessly communicate your concern.

It seems to work as Sans’ shoulders ease some and he nods at you.

“IT IS ALRIGHT,” Papyrus says. “WHILE VIOLENCE SHOULD NOT BE THE FIRST RESORT, I UNDERSTAND THE NEED TO PROTECT THOSE IMPORTANT TO YOU. I AM MORE INTERESTED IN THE FACT THAT YOU ARE ANOTHER ME, HOWEVER! IT CERTAINLY SEEMS A MORE IMPORTANT TOPIC.”

“yeah, that’s why we’re here,” Red says. “ain’t it,  _ vanilla _ ?”

You glance at him, wondering at the bitterness in his voice and the derision with which he says the nickname. You don’t have a chance to ask him though, as the Sans you haven’t met clears his throat beneath the weight of everyone’s gazes. “guess i should introduce myself,” he says, eyelights trained on you. There’s a hint of a blue blush across his cheekbones. “the name’s sans. sans the skeleton. nice to meet you.”

You introduce yourself and so do the others, all including the nicknames they’ve been given. The only people lacking nicknames currently are the Sans of this universe (you don’t count vanilla, it seems derogatory), and the Sans and Papyrus from the universe that had a famine. 

You pay close attention to Stretch’s introduction, his quiet tones introducing himself as Blue’s younger brother. He’s dressed in a rumpled orange sweatshirt with a lit cigarette dangling between his teeth. Your nose wrinkles at that; you  _ hate _ secondhand smoke. He seems to notice, winking at you as he puts it out with his fingertips. You nod gratefully, as the others introduce themselves.

The introductions end and you immediately speak up, “It is nice to meet you all, though the circumstances are less than stellar. Sans--” Four skeletons turn to you. Stars, they all need nicknames. “Er...this universe’s Sans.” He looks at you, grin nervous. “You work at the university in New Home, right?”

He nods. “y-yeah.”

“I think I’ve seen you around.” Why does that make him look so uneasy? “I hear you’ve been working on some type of machine. What’s its purpose?”

“i, uh, it’s supposed to stabilize the timeline,” Sans says.

“seems to have accomplished the opposite,” Red mutters.

Sans glares at him before continuing, “the timeline underground was...unstable. it fluctuated and changed on a whim. this universe--this reality--it’s worth preserving and protecting.” He laughs a bit uncomfortably as you stare steadily at him. It’s a worthwhile goal, but the way it’s being pursued… “i miscalculated a bit obviously.”

“Is that what you call it?” you ask tightly, barely able to restrain yourself. You can’t handle him making light of this, of your sister’s disappearance. 

“it was a miscalculation that brought the others through, but with stretch’s help, we’ve adjusted--”

You step forward, moving until you are standing right in front of him. You need him to understand your position on this. “It wasn’t just a simple miscalculation,” you say. “You’re messing around with Void magic; so much can go wrong.” You gesture to the skeletons around you. “You’ve uprooted all of them from their lives and their universes, tearing them away from friends and family.” Sans’s eyelights shrink at your admonishment. “And it wasn’t just them. Your machine, however it works, affected people in this universe too.”

“what?” You can’t see Sans’s eyelights anymore and his skull is coated in sweat. “what do you mean by that, y/n?”

“Just that,” you say, trying to temper your voice. You know you fail, anger and frustration bleeding through. “With every person that’s been drawn through to our universe, someone from our universe disappeared.” You pull out your phone, scrolling to your recent photos. “I was here a couple of days ago, when Red and Coal came through.” You stare down at the picture you took only minutes before the event. “It should’ve been me.”

Sans tenses. “what should’ve been you?”

You turn your phone to him, showing him the photo of you and your sister grinning beneath the waterfall. “ _ I  _ should’ve been the one pulled through.” You see Red and Coal tensing in your periphery, but you don’t pay it mind. “The magic certainly tried to take me; it put my SOUL through the wringer.” You swallow. “It took her instead, so you’re left dealing with me.” Your lips twist at the storm swirling within you. “Lucky you.”

“w-what do you mean?” Sans stammers, dumbfounded. He sways, falling onto the ground. He stares up at you, regarding you like a curse and a blessing at once. You feel a bit bad for him; it’s obvious that you’ve rocked something foundational to him, but you can’t stop here.

“You’re going to help me bring them back,” you say. “We’re going to fix this mess and get back those who disappeared. I’m getting to my sister, one way or another.”


	11. Paralyzed (UT!Sans)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now for something completely different; UT!Sans' POV

Sans settles into the auditorium seat, already bored. There’s a lot of nervous energy up at the front, all of the graduate student presenters flitting about. He sighs, leaning back in his seat. He wants to be home, in bed, letting the day drift over him, but he has to be here. 

Papyrus wanted him to “connect” with the humans on campus and Alphys needed someone from their lab to represent them at this event. So here he is, a passive, barely present participant. He knows already how it’s going to go, over an hour of awkwardly quick presentations on topics that just don’t matter. 

Well, to be fair, very little matters to Sans.

He notices, in a sort of detached way, that there are very few monsters in the quickly crowding hall. Just him, a lava monster, and a couple of younger monsters who are also presenting. His mouth twists at that, indignation sparking something in him for a moment before fading away just as quickly.

He’s just so exhausted by all the bullshit of politics, it’s been literal years since they arrived on the Surface and they are  _ still _ fighting for equality. For every step forward there’s two steps back and a shuffle to the side. He’s so fucking tired of  _ trying _ and getting nowhere.

It’s like the Underground again, like the unchanging twinkling rocks that line the ceiling, and something in Sans  _ hurts _ at the realization that the Surface is no different than the Underground.

The Surface didn’t change  _ him  _ like he so hoped it would.

So, Sans glazes over as the first handful of presentations tick by, unimpressed and unamused. And then...you get up. He doesn’t really pay attention to you at first, until he realizes that a monster, a tiger monster, is joining you on stage. He perks up a bit at that, surprised to see collaboration between a human and a monster. 

Sans knows that a lot of people in town have been accepting of monsters, Frisk goes to a fully integrated school and has since they Surfaced, but the change has been slow in academia. Not many monsters went to university Underground and only recently have some of them started going to university. And academia is ever so slow to change its ways.

So Sans listens intently as you say your name and the tiger monster introduces himself as Namur, before launching into your project.

The very first thing the two of you do is start an Encounter. 

Sans sits forward, nearly launching himself from his seat, mind racing at the ramifications of an unsolicited Encounter in public between a human and a monster--

But you are calm, explaining the process as it happens to the humans in the crowd as they start to murmur and some even gasp as your SOUL emerges from your chest. Sans’ breath catches.

Your SOUL is the color of the sun, bright and vibrant with JUSTICE. Throughout your SOUL runs hairline cracks; your SOUL only held together by gossamer strands of PERSEVERANCE. Sans’ eye twitches and he realizes that he’s unconsciously activated his ability to Judge, peering into your SOUL on display. No EXP and very low LV. You’re...you’re really concerned about fairness for both humans and monsters. You want everyone to be on equal grounds and live in harmony. You’re willing to take risks, to take hits to yourself, for the sake of your goals.

He’s really absorbed in staring into your SOUL, dumbfounded by the trust you display by literally baring your SOUL in a roomful of strangers. He hasn’t been in Encounters with many humans aside from Frisk, but his role as the Judge usually allows him to see people’s SOULs regardless. But this? This casual vulnerability?

It’s a luxury, one that Sans really hasn’t experienced often.

And then you take hold of your SOUL and push it back into your chest, wobbling slightly at the added weight. Namur offers you his hand and you take it gratefully, thanking the audience as they begin to applaud.

Sans joins in, cheekbones heating as he realizes that he missed the entirety of your talk. He’s going to have to find your poster in the session after this. He needs to figure out what the hell kind of research you’re doing that involves SOULs.

And, uh, who you are outside of just a SOUL search.

* * *

Sans writes down your name in the little notebook he carries around in his hoodie, taking the information from your poster, but honestly, he forgets about it for a while. In his defense, there’s a lot going on--work with Alphys on the amalgamates, his own research on the space-time continuum, the department breathing down his spine for results, spending time with the kid whenever he can, and, of course, dealing with bullshit politics. He hates the last most of all, but he’s one of the best at reading through the treaties and contracts, his paranoia preventing him from being anything but thorough. So, he forgets.

And the way he forgets best is at Grillby’s. 

It’s his first time in for a few weeks and the tension he carries in his shoulders just melts away as he enters, beelining toward the bar. He exchanges greetings with the various monster patrons, eyelights briefly flicking over the collection of humans gathered in some of the booths. They’re all young, most likely students at the university, but they’re jovial and minding their own business so Sans takes his usual seat, waving at Grillby.

For all that Grillby is animate fire, Sans can tell that he seems concerned.

“i’m fine, grillbz,” Sans says before Grillby can ask. He sighs in relief as Grillby slides a full bottle of ketchup his way. “just working myself down to the  _ bone _ .” Sans holds up his hand, wiggling his fingers at Grillby. “wearing myself so thin that i’m practically see through.”

Grillby shakes his head, tutting in a way that sounds like burning logs popping. “...I should withhold your food...your jokes are worse than usual…”

“pretty sure that’s  _ inhumane  _ treatment,” Sans says, adroitly snatching his burger and fries from Grillby. He can move quickly when motivated enough. “then again, i’m a monster so…”

Grillby sighs quietly, a puff of soot emerging from his mouth before he turns away from Sans. Sans’ grin eases into its usual state as soon as Grillby turns away and his grip on the ketchup tightens. Stupid.  _ Stupid _ . He shouldn’t have come out tonight; his jokes and haphazard and sloppy, not even really puns at this point.

And that last one about inhumanity…

It strikes a little too close to home for his tastes right now, what with the way the treaties are going on a federal level.

His phalanges flex around the ketchup, splattering it across his burger and fries. Sans grimaces, realizing that his eyelights winked out in his anger and exhaustion. He shakes himself, just as he hears a voice ring out.

“Hey, Grillby!” you say, striding into the bar. Sans notices the way Grillby perks up, flames crackling higher with interest. “How’s it going tonight?”

You seem very familiar with the bar and with Grillby, taking a seat at the other end of the bar. Drunk Bunny is seated by you and lists into you. Sans tenses, wondering if he’s going to have to prevent a dusting. It’s happened over less than this.

Instead, you gently redirect Drunk Bunny, even reaching out and snagging one of the clean dish towels behind the bar to prop his head up on the counter.

Huh.

Sans settles back onto the barstool, watching you covertly as he polishes off a few fries. 

Grillby makes his way over to you and you chat, your tone coming across as pleasant and genial. You’re making a bit of smalltalk, discussing some incident in your lab and, though Sans can’t hear Grillby’s replies, he does recognize the popping sparks across his head flames as laughter. You seem relaxed, shoulders loose and stance open, your eyes sparkling as they reflect Grillby’s flames.

Sans watches as you ask Grillby to make you something with a little flash and pizazz, winking as you do so. And Grillby pulls out his stops, putting on an absolute show, magic coloring his flames as he mixed you a magical beverage. A little way into the demonstration, you call out to a couple of the humans by name, drawing them over. They seem a little less comfortable with you about standing shoulder to shoulder with the curious monsters who always appreciate a good magic show, especially from a boss monster, but they come over nonetheless. Soon enough, their unease disappears as one of them realizes that actual facts magic drinks are on the menu.

Grillby passes you your drink and you briefly squeeze his hand in thanks before he is hit with a deluge of requests as the humans start asking the monsters around them about the best drinks to order and the differential effects that arise from the type of magic utilized. Grillby continues performing for the other customers, though, Sans notes, none of the tricks are nearly as impressive as the ones he used for you.

But Sans is more interested in what you’re doing. You watch Grillby complete the next drink request, your smile turning satisfied as the human boy takes a seat next to Deborah the plant monster and strikes up a conversation. You wave at Grillby, hopping up from your seat and heading over to sit with a group of monsters. They greet you fondly, welcoming you into their midst. Sans stares at you openly in fascination, finding it so odd to see an adult human so at ease with monsters.

Odd, but refreshing.

Other humans join you at the table and a lively discussion gets going. Sans watches, enjoying how passionate you are about whatever you’re discussing, face flushed and hands gesticulating wildly. It reminds him a bit of Papyrus honestly and that sort of enthusiasm is catching.

When you finish your drink, you disengage from the group, making the rounds to the people you know before arriving back at Grillby last. “I’ve got a class to teach tomorrow morning, Grillby, thank you for the drink. What do I owe you?”

“...For you?...No charge...” Grillby says, leaning against the counter as he regards you.

Sans’ browbones shoot up, surprised and maybe a bit miffed. He thought he was the only Grillby gave an open tab.

You cross your arms, shaking your head with reluctant amusement. You pull out your wallet and put some money on the counter. “Grillby,” you say, with a mixture of irritation and fondness. “That isn’t fair to you. Let me know if this wasn’t the right amount and I’ll pay you back this next time.”

Grillby nods, huffing in amusement. “...Have a good night...Y/N…”

He and Sans both watch you leave. Grillby returns to making drinks and Sans takes long sips of his ketchup, wanting to wait it out. He has some questions for Grillby. The rest of the humans eventually trickle away, mingling among both monsters and humans as they do so.

Was this your doing?

Sans isn’t sure. He thinks it is.

“who was that, grillbz?” Sans asks, keeping his voice light.

“...That was Y/N…” Grillby says. “...Why do you want to know?”

“just seems pretty familiar with the bar,” Sans says. “i’m a little surprised i haven’t encountered them before.”

“...They’ve been coming around since I opened here…” Grillby says, giving Sans a concerned look. “...You’ve been here before at the same time…Many times...”

Sans’ eyelights flit away from Grillby before returning again. Sweat beads his skull. “uh...in my defense, all humans look the same?” It comes out weakly, as a question.

Grillby radiates disapproval, flames heating slightly. “...That was a prejudiced statement, Sans...Humans are more uniform in appearance than monsters...But they are unique…”

Sans flushes slightly, squirming under Grillby’s scrutiny. “yeah, that was uncalled for. just venting some frustration the wrong way. my bad, grillby.”

Grillby eases back from Sans, patting Sans’ hand. “...It’s alright...Are you...Alright?”

Sans sighs. “not at my best  _ tibia _ -nest. it’ll pass. so, uh, y/n comes in a lot?”

“...A couple times a week...At least…” Grillby says. 

“seems good for business,” Sans says. He looks over the bar, the way monsters and humans mingle so easily. “y/n seemed to navigate that effortlessly.”

“...Y/N has done so frequently in the past…” Grillby says. “...They know how to navigate uncomfortable situations…”

“yeah,” Sans says, staring down at his nearly empty ketchup bottle. He finishes it off. “thanks, grillbz. i owe you one.”

“...I’ll put it on your tab…” Grillby says fondly.

Sans takes another glance around the bar, something lightening in his chest. He shortcuts away from the bar, flopping onto his bed.

He holds his chest, smile shaky.

It’s been a long,  _ long _ time since he last felt hope.

He likes the way it feels.

* * *

Sans does a pretty thorough search of your academic profile, downloading pdfs of all your publications. He reads through them voraciously, finding himself enjoying more than just your SOUL and your seeming friendliness.

He really enjoys your mind.

You’re so smart, so inquisitive, your research focusing on exploring SOULs through an empirical lens. You’re researching the impact of trauma on SOULs, the post-traumatic growth that may occur. So far, the research has focused mostly on human participants, looking at the way that some develop secondary colors to their SOULs. It isn’t the most common thing, children possess only the primary SOUL trait, but upon maturation some human SOULs develop secondary and even tertiary colors. Most of these changes, according to your research, result from some sort of traumatic experience.

Sans remembers your own SOUL, the almost mosaic quality of the purple cracks that fill in the broken edges of the sunshine.

You mention the Japanese art of  _ kintsugi _ in your articles, the art of repairing broken pottery pieces with lacquer dusted in precious metals. It leaves the pottery piece more beautiful than it was before the breaking. 

Sans finds it fitting; your SOUL is the most beautiful he has ever seen.

He shares your research with his colleagues, Alphys especially. It sparks his love of learning, igniting it back to what it once was, before the RESETs. He’s so curious about the line of research, how it can be extended beyond where it currently is? What is the impact of trauma on monster SOULs? What is the impact of primary SOUL traits on other outcomes, like physical health and well-being? There are so many questions that whirl around in his head and he spends many late nights in the lab in discussion with Alphys.

It even inspires Sans to start working on the machine again. He wants to stabilize the timeline, prevent RESETs from happening again. Sans trusts Frisk, he does, but he’s also lived through a number of RSETs. Frisk, as fantastic a person as they are, is still a child. And though he’s explained the toll that RESETs have on him, Sans isn’t sure if Frisk will keep their promise. He thinks they will, he  _ does _ , but what if? So he dives back into his work, chasing down that far off goal.

It’s...it’s good to do this.  _ Sans _ feels good. He’s been stagnant for so long now, barely keeping his head above the waters of depression. Truth be told, he’s been drowning in it. And letting himself.

Willingly.

It’s just so hard to fight the waves.

This new interest is something of a life preserver.

There’s so much he can do on the Surface. There’s so many people--both good and bad. Before, he was only seeing the bad, but now...well, he can see that there is good,  _ true _ good, among the humans.

He even takes the leap and enrolls in therapy, knowing that he needs it. And, knowing from well-traveled experience, that the single life preserver isn’t enough. Sans needs to set up the support in his life.

Sans doesn’t want to meet you while his life is still a mess, while  _ he’s _ still a mess, but he can’t really keep himself away from you.

He steps into the auditorium, keeping his hood up as he slouches into a seat. It’s an Introductory Psychology class and there are quite a few undergraduate students, a decent mix of humans and monsters. He knows he can pass without notice here. 

He has numerous times before.

Sans watches avidly as you come into the class, getting your computer and PowerPoint pulled up as you talk casually with the students. You’re so vibrant and Sans’ socket stings slightly as he Judges you, watching your SOUL. It vibrates in your chest, excited and slightly nervous; you aren’t the biggest fan of public speaking but you love teaching nevertheless. 

You begin the lecture and Sans cannot bring himself to focus on your words, instead drinking you in: your movements, your tones, your facial expressions, your SOUL. Just, everything that makes you you.

You freely engage with the students, encouraging discussion and debate around the topic of...cognition? Yeah.

Sans lets the cadence of your voice wash over him, drifting in it. There’s something so soothing about it and he can almost imagine that you’re having a conversation with him, just with him--

And then you laugh and Sans flushes, imagination playing out a scenario where you laugh at his puns, where you share a sense of humor and you find him  _ funny _ \--

Sans’ magic rattles within him, buzzing with extra energy. There’s an odd feeling in his ribcage and Sans is drawn out of his fantasy. He flushes as he realizes that he’s trying to initiate an _Encounter_ of all things.

Oh  _ shit _ .

Sans panics, shortcutting out of the classroom immediately.

* * *

Sans avoids in-person interactions with you for a while. He just can’t risk it happening again. It’s strange honestly. Sans has never experienced an accidental Encounter before. Then again, he’s never liked anyone as much as he’s liked you.

It’s ridiculous isn’t it; pathetic that he can feel so strongly for you even though you’ve never interacted with each other directly. But he knows your SOUL, knows  _ you _ , and he cannot deny the way he feels, at least to himself.

Besides, he wouldn’t be having this problem if he didn’t feel like he knows you.

Regardless, Sans is determined to get himself together, collect the various pieces of his life into something coherent before he approaches you. He wants to meet you, be the sole recipient of your attention, date you,  _ love you-- _

But right now, Sans abstains. He needs to finish the machine first. He doesn’t think he could survive the possibility of a RESET after he introduces himself to you, after he approaches you with the intention of dating. Or, at the very least, of being friends. Sans cannot risk losing something so precious, even though he doesn’t have it yet.

He thinks that it might just shatter his SOUL.

So, for now, he stays away, though everything in his SOUL screams at him to go and see you, to look at your SOUL, to tell you a pun and watch you light up in laughter--

Well, he does the next best thing.

He explores your lab page, finding short videos in which you introduce yourself and your research. Sans remembers the campaign the university held about garnering up more monster-related research; he thinks your videos are one of the products. You’re a luminary on the topic of SOULs, after all.

He watches you, SOUL aching at the polish and poise with which you present. It’s nice, certainly, but it isn’t  _ you _ . It isn’t the you he sees in the classroom, with your passionate gesticulating. It isn’t the you he sees in Grillby’s, where you laugh so hard you start snorting. It isn’t the you he sees in your very SOUL, the nearly blinding sense of JUSTICE that tirelessly drives you to seek equality between humans and monsters.

But, it’s as close as he can get right now.

He listens avidly, watching the shape of your lips (so strange to him, so pretty) as you talk. 

_ “The biggest takeaway from this line of research so far is that anyone can change. Anyone can better themselves. Nothing is set in stone. Every SOUL is capable of good.” _ Your eyes, so bright and steady, meet the camera directly, trying to engage with the viewer. “You  _ are capable of so much good.” _

Magic pulses through Sans and he shivers beneath the weight of your gaze. What would it be like, he wonders, to be the object of that steady, unwavering gaze?

He wants to find out.

* * *

Sans trudges along with the troupe of skeletons, exhaustion permeating bone deep. He can’t believe the machine failed again, brought through these... _ caricatures _ of himself and Papyrus. Sans likes Blue and Stretch, can see the way he and his brother are reflected in them, but Red and Coal?

Sans sees very little of himself in these edgy, angry brats.

Sans can understand the anger, he can, but he doesn’t care for the violence that exudes from their very bones. They were aggressive with their approach, almost engaging him in an Encounter when they first met.

And he doesn’t know how a human got roped into this mess, but he knows he has to be the responsible one to sort it out. Stars, how is he even going to explain this all away? It seems the human figured out the whole alternate universe fiasco and Sans is running through a couple of different cover stories as they climb the stairs to a cabin that the others claim the human owns.

“HUMAN!” Coal calls, pushing open the front door and striding in. “WE HAVE RETURNED VICTORIOUS!”

“ya manage to get into any trouble, danger?” Red asks, following at a more sedate pace.

There’s the sound of shuffling from the back porch, the murmur of voices, and, most worrying of all, the flare of magic. Then the back door opens and a skeleton stands on the other side. Sans’ magic flares in response, both to this skeleton’s magic and his looks. He looks like a Sans, but a Sans from a much rougher universe.

Sans holds his gaze steady on this other Sans’ red eyelight, refusing to break to look at his head wound.

“Sans, it’s fine,” a familiar voice says from behind this new Sans. The speaker edges around Sans, entering the room. “We’re all friends here.”

Sans’ SOUL lurches as he meets your eyes.

Your fierce gaze is everything,  _ everything _ , he hoped for and so much more. Except, it hurts, because there is a fire in your eyes that threatens to sear and burn him away until he is little more than dust.

Fuck.


	12. Chapter 12

You glance around the table at the skeletons, watching them all dig into their bowls of chili. There are multiple lines of conversation, though most are between pairs of brothers. Not much talk across iterations.

You want to change that if you can, feeling the tension, low level but lingering. You look out over them, trying to decide the best question to ask. You don’t want to set off any arguments. You settle on a rather weak, “How are you enjoying the chili?”

The response is immediate, effusive praise from all of the skeletons. You blink a bit at that, giggling as they all look around the table at the others.

“I’m glad to hear it,” you say, smiling at each of them in turn. “May I get refills for any of you?”

Coal leaps to his feet before you can stand. “NO NEED HUMAN! I WILL PROVIDE SUSTENANCE FOR YOU ALL!”

He comes up to you first, gloved hand outstretched for your bowl. You hand it to him with a grin. “Thank you, Coal! You’re such a gentleman!”

Coal’s eyelights dart away from you, skull flushing. “Y-YES WELL, I WILL ATTEMPT TO LIVE UP TO YOUR EXPECTATIONS! SANS!” Four skeletons start.

“yeah, boss?” Red says, a bit belatedly.

“YOU WILL ASSIST ME IN PROCURING AN ETIQUETTE MANUAL FOR THE SURFACE! I WILL MASTER THE DIFFERENT CUSTOMS HERE!” Coal says, efficiently collecting the bowls of the others to refill them.

“sure thing, boss,” Red replies, grin proud as he watches his brother march into the kitchen. He turns his sockets your way, raising his brows. “paps will be your gentleman, but i can take care of your other needs.”

You snort, shaking your head at the way he waggles his brow bones. “I’m swooning, really,” you say.

“NOT TO WORRY HUMAN,” Blue says, “I’LL CATCH YOU!”

“sorry blue,” Red says. “i’ma sweep them off their feet.”

You smile as the others chime in, watching them fondly. There’s something bittersweet about being gathered here around your grandparents’ huge dinner table. Your family used to come together here long ago; all your aunts, uncles, and cousins crowding into this cabin and filling it with love and laughter. It’s been a long time since the table was this full and you can’t quite remember if there was ever this much punning.

But yeah, like this, they almost seem like a family. An odd family yes, but doesn’t every family have its quirks?

“HERE IS YOUR BOWL,” Coal says, thrusting the full bowl at you. It is almost overflowing and you are already wondering if you can finish half of it. “EAT UP HUMAN!”

“yeah,” famine Sans says. “need to make sure you’re more than just  _ skin and bones _ .”

You arch a brow, but your smile is gentle, teasing. “Coming from the literal skeleton? Sounds legit.”

He snorts, as do most of the others.

“HUMAN, THIS IS REALLY DELICIOUS!” Clem praises as he digs into his second bowl. “I CANNOT BELIEVE THAT IT IS NOT SPAGHETTI!”

“Is spaghetti your favorite food?”

“SPAGHETTI IS THE BEST DISH TO MAKE FOR FRIENDS!” Clem replies.

“INDEED IT IS!” famine Papyrus adds.

“I can make it for you sometime, Clem,” you say, running the ingredients you have through your head. “I could even make it for dinner tomorrow.”

“R-REALLY?” Clem asks, an orange flush lighting his cheekbones. “HAVE WE ALREADY HIT THAT STAGE OF FRIENDSHIP? SPAGHETTI IS A VERY DIFFICULT DISH TO MASTER!”

“I wouldn’t call myself a master,” you demur in the face of his enthusiasm, “but I’ve made spaghetti more than a few times. I’d be happy to make it tomorrow.”

“OH NO!” Clem says, looking between you and the table in a fit of shyness. “YOU’RE MEETING ALL OF MY STANDARDS!”

“Y/N, HAVE YOU EVER MADE TACOS?” Blue asks suddenly, eyes starry. “P-PERHAPS I-- _ WE _ COULD MAKE THEM TOGETHER!”

“I love tacos,” you reassure. “And we can definitely make tacos at some point.”

You see Coal open his mouth to say something, before snapping it shut with a furrow between his brows.

“ah, before we get to talking about food plans,” the original Sans pipes in, for really the first time since you grilled him about the machine. He won’t meet your gaze and you feel a twinge of...regret? Not exactly that, maybe pity. Everything that’s happened is an honest mistake and you know you need to have a conversation with him alone at some point to clear the air. “could we discuss giving the new folks nicknames?” His eyelights dart over the Sans and Papyrus from the famine timeline, lingering especially on the Sans. “it’s been a bit of a headtrip honestly.”

Famine Sans meets his gaze squarely, grin tight. “what? ya got an  _ axe _ to grind with me, pal? what’s with the look?”

“just wondering what type of universe you come from that involves so much violence,” the original Sans says, eyelight flickering blue and yellow for a moment. “where’d you get all that love, pal?”

“NICKNAMES ARE A WONDERFUL IDEA!” famine Papyrus breaks in, placing a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “THEY ARE A SYMBOL OF FRIENDSHIP AND SHOULD BE GREATLY TREASURED!”

Clem nods sagely. “TRULY, NICKNAMES ARE FANTASTIC!” His sockets latch onto you for a moment and you’re flattered by the orange tinge that fills his cheekbones. “T-THEY ARE A SIGN THAT YOUR FRIENDS CARE FOR YOU!”

“Nicknames are a good idea,” you say, warming to the idea. You give this timeline’s Sans a flat look. “ _ Everyone  _ is getting a nickname though; it isn’t fair for anyone to be excluded.” 

And it isn’t fair for anyone to get to keep their original name while the others have to make do with a nickname.

Sans glances at you, eyelights dilating as a blue blush covers his skull. “i don’t have a problem with that.” His eyelights turn on famine Sans. “what do ya say,  _ axe _ ?”

Famine Sans grimaces. “that ain’t much of a nickname,  _ short stack _ .” 

“Hey!” you cut in, glaring at them both.

“yeah,  _ vanilla _ , watch yerself,” Red says. “though, can ya really? yer a little  _ vertically challenged _ .”

You swing your gaze to him, frowning. Why the hell is Red bringing up height? He only has like an inch or two on Sans; he has no room to talk.

“HUSH,” Coal says, scowling so fiercely at the others that you’re surprised he doesn’t accidentally initiate an Encounter. “THIS SORT OF NAME-CALLING IS COUNTERPRODUCTIVE. SINCE YOU REFUSE TO BE CIVIL--” He glares at the three Sanses who are squabbling like children. “--WE WILL START WITH...PAPYRUS.”

Everyone falls silent, very few people willing to look at Papyrus head-on. You’re saddened by that, though you suppose it may be a response to seeing themselves or their brothers in such a bad state. You have no such qualms, grinning cheerily at him when he meets your eyes. 

“What about crooks?” Red offers, staring down at the table. “because of the--” He gestures to his mouth region.

You see Papyrus’ face fall, the shame clouding his crestfallen expression, but you can’t hear his response. Not over the sound of the blood pounding in your ears. You push yourself to your feet, slamming your hands down on the table with more force than you intended. 

“Are you fucking kidding me, Red?” you demand, staring him down. He hunches a bit, eyelights tiny in his surprise. “Seriously? That’s fucking ridiculous! There is no excuse for such name-calling and fucking outright bullying.” You turn to Papyrus, instantly gentling. You can see the way his jaw trembles and you ache to cup it. “I’m sorry, Papyrus. You don’t deserve that. Your nickname should reflect who you are. Your nickname should be something like ‘Sweets’ or ‘Sugar!’ You’re such a sweet guy.”

A flush colors his cheeks and his sockets drift between you and the rest of the group. You feel a bit bad for causing such a scene, but you aren’t going to let such harassment slide unchecked. “THAT’S, UH, VERY SWEET-- _ KIND _ OF YOU!” he says, fiddling with his hands. “HOWEVER I DO NOT THINK I WOULD ENJOY FOR ITERATIONS OF MY BROTHER AND...MYSELF TO CALL ME SUCH NICKNAMES.”

“Shoot,” you say, taking a seat once more. “I didn’t think about that.”

“jupiter,” the original Sans says after a few moments. “it’s the largest planet in the solar system and i believe you’re the tallest of all of us.”

You see famine Sans lean back in his chair, shoulders easing. “huh. not bad, pal.” He turns to his brother. “how do you like it, papy?”

“THAT IS A GREAT NICKNAME PERFECT FOR THE GREAT PAPYRUS!” he says. “ER...FOR THE GREAT JUPITER!” He tests it out, grinning. “BUT WHAT ABOUT YOU, BROTHER?”

“Mars?” you offer, smiling at the happiness in both their faces. They turn toward you. “It’s the reddest planet in the solar system and it’s right beside Jupiter.”

“heh, mars huh?” famine Sans says. He says it a few times to himself, eyelight flickering as he commits it to memory. “mars and jupiter.” He looks at Jupiter. “it’s appropriate. we’re really  _ out of this world. _ ”

“NYEH!” Jupiter says, crossing his arms. “THAT WASN’T VERY... _ STELLAR _ OF YOU, MARS!”

You laugh as do the others at the table, glad to see the tensions dissipate. Red is giving you a hangdog expression, but you ignore it for the time being. You don’t think it’s appropriate to air grievances any further in front of the others and he can approach you after the dinner should he choose.

“And then there was one,” you say, balancing your cheek on your fist as you survey the original Sans. He squirms a little beneath your gaze so you deliberately soften your smile. “Any thoughts on a nickname?”

“just, uh, nothing involving my height,” he says.

“Of course not,” you say, glancing at Red. “This is about nicknames, not name-calling.”

“WELL, WE CERTAINLY CANNOT CALL HIM ‘LAZYBONES!’” Clem says, clutching his chin in thought. “EVEN THOUGH IT IS AN ACCURATE DESCRIPTOR OF YOUR BEHAVIORS! PERHAPS WE CAN CALL YOU ‘COUCH POTATO?’”

“OR MAYBE ‘MARSHMALLOW?’” Blue adds. “SINCE YOUR EYELIGHTS ARE BRIGHT WHITE?”

“Could shorten it to ‘Marsh,’” you say, pondering it. “Like Blueberry is shortened to Blue.” You look at Sans, raising your brows in question.

“heh, i like that more than vanilla,” Sans says with a look at Red. He gives you a smile, eyelights glowing within his sockets. “i am pretty  _ fluffy _ too,” he says, patting his hoodie.

You laugh with him at that, glad that he seems to enjoy it. “So, is Marsh it?”

He flushes lightly, contrasting prettily with his dilating eyelights. “yeah, that works, y/n.”

You grab your glass of water, lifting it to them all. Coal, Red, Clem, Blue, Mars, Jupiter, Stretch, and Marsh. You repeat the names in your head, trying to commit them to memory. “Well, in the interest of introductions, it is wonderful to meet you all.” You meet each of their gazes and say their newly minted nicknames. “I hope we can get along.”

“OF COURSE! IT IS A PLEASURE TO MEET YOU AS WELL!” Jupiter says. 

“I guess we need to figure out accommodations for the evening?” you say. “I doubt any of you want to go back to New Home tonight.”

Marsh and Stretch exchange glances. “we’ve been taking some shortcuts home,” Marsh says. “but those are a bit tiring, especially with passengers.”

“There’s room here,” you say.

“WE HAVE CLAIMED A ROOM IN THE BASEMENT,” Jupiter says. “IT IS THE MOST DEFENSIBLE AND FORTIFIED. THIS CABIN SEEMS TO BE ABANDONED, SO IT SHOULD BE SAFE.”

“uh, bro, it’s a little less abandoned than i thought,” Mars says. “our pal here seems to be the owner. it’s why they were cooking dinner.”

“OH!” Jupiter jumps, turning to you with a guilty look on his face. “HUMAN, I SINCERELY APOLOGIZE FOR TRESPASSING ON YOUR TERRITORY!”

“It’s fine,” you say, waving it off. “I haven’t been using the space, so I’m glad it’s gotten some use.”

“no one else comes out here?” Stretch asks. “it’s a pretty large space.”

“Not anymore,” you reply, fighting off the melancholy brought on by your memories. “You are right about it being large; there should be enough space for everyone. I can give y’all a tour and you can decide where you want to sleep.”

There’s a mad dash as everyone gets to their feet, Blue rapidly gathering the used dishes and taking them to the kitchen.

“Thanks Blue!” you call after him. “You’re the best!”

Clem joins him in cleaning up the dishes and you can hear exclamations about speed and deftness, leaving you to hope that they don’t destroy the dishes. Or the sink. The physical strength of a monster is nothing to scoff at, especially that of a boss monster.

“I WILL SUPERVISE,” Coal says, striding into the kitchen.

You take a moment to do a mental inventory of the cabin. There are nine bedrooms and a loft. The loft doubles as a bedroom and game room; it’s the place where you and your sister usually slept whenever you came over for visits. You go ahead and lay claim to it, moving your bags to sit on the stairs that wind up to the room.

This done, you head into the kitchen, surprised at just how clean it is, cleaner than it was even before you started. “Wow,” you say, looking at Blue, Clem, and Coal. “Thank you for your help!”

“OF COURSE!” Blue says, eyelights starry. “IT IS THE LEAST WE CAN DO IN APPRECIATION OF YOUR EXCELLENT COOKING!”

You grin at him in turn, flattered. “Well, if everyone’s ready, we can get this going.”

You lead them all throughout the house, starting in the basement. There are six bedrooms down here and you notice that Jupiter and Mars have already claimed two of the bedrooms that are side by side. Blue, Stretch, Red, and Clem take the others.

You move up to the ground level, showing them the master bedroom. You yourself do not enter, paling as the memories sink their claws into you. You can still smell the slow death by decay, the sound of a heart monitor beating.

You can’t bear to look at the room and confront its emptiness.

“are you alright, y/n?” Marsh asks, peering up at you in concern.

“I’m fine,” you reply, pasting a smile on your face.

“HUMAN, AS YOU ARE THE MASTER OF THIS RESIDENCE YOU SHOULD RECEIVE THE MASTER BEDROOM,” Coal says.

“No,” you say sharply. You read the surprise in his gaze and shake your head, softening. “Sorry. No, I would prefer not to take that room if it’s all the same to you. I’ll stay in the loft.”

Coal and Marsh exchange looks before stepping away from the room. “will ya show us where the other rooms are?” Marsh asks.

Marsh and Coal end up claiming the two other bedrooms on this floor, leaving the master bedroom empty.

Everyone disperses after that, getting up to their own devices. You head up to the loft, taking your baggage and starting the process of unpacking. From your minimal understanding of the machine and its intricacies, you think you’ll be here for a while.

There’s a rapping on the wall by the stairs and you stand, turning. Coal is standing just out of sight of the loft, back to you to preserve your privacy. His gloved knuckles are braced against the wall. You smile at the sight, appreciating his thoughtfulness.

“Hi Coal,” you say. “You’re welcome to come in.”

“ARE YOU SURE?” he asks, back ramrod straight. “I DO NOT WISH TO INFRINGE UPON YOUR PRIVACY OR TIME.”

“Please come in,” you say. “I insist.”

“SIGH,” Coal says and a giggle threatens to burst from you. “SINCE YOU INSIST.”

He turns, eyelights eager as he bounds the rest of the way up the stairs. His eyelights dart all around the room and you wonder how it looks to him. There are hardwood floors and walls, with faded movie posters plastered across the walls. The furniture consists of a bed, a desk, a dresser, a squishy armchair, and a couple of bookshelves. The bed is covered in homemade quilts and you smile as you look at the one that you and your sister made. There’s a little bathroom off the loft with a small shower and wide windows that encompass one of the walls. You have many memories about sleeping in here with your sister, fighting over who had to sleep on the trundle and telling stories beneath the light of the moon.

“What brought you up here?” you ask, taking a seat on the bed and pulling one of the quilts across your lap.

“I WISHED TO SPEAK WITH YOU ABOUT A POTENTIALLY SENSITIVE MATTER,” he pauses, taking a seat on the bed as you pat it. You throw one of the quilts across him, lips curling at the picture he makes. You’re really,  _ really _ tempted to take a photo. His clawed hands, tucked as they are into his gloves, fiddle with the edges of the quilt. “HOW ARE YOU DOING?”

“I’m alright,” you say. “I’m a bit tired; it’s been a long day, but I’m glad to get some answers.”

“AS AM I,” Coal says. “I WAS...WONDERING HOW YOU WERE DOING BECAUSE...WELL, IT SEEMS LIKE YOU BOTTLE UP YOUR EMOTIONS.” He looks at you earnestly. “SANS-- _ RED _ SAID THAT YOU CRIED THE NIGHT WE MET. I--WELL, IT TOOK ME A BIT BY SURPRISE. WHY WERE YOU CRYING THAT NIGHT?”

“Oh,” you say, staring down at your quilt. “I missed my sister. I still do. It was a way to release some of those pent-up emotions.”

“I AM NOT DISPARAGING YOU, HUMAN,” Coal says, reaching out and taking your hand. “I FIND IT ADMIRABLE THAT YOU HELD YOURSELF TOGETHER SO EFFECTIVELY IN THE FACE OF SUCH STRESS. I KNOW MY BROTHER AND I CUT INTIMIDATING FIGURES; IT COULD NOT HAVE BEEN EASY TO BE CONFRONTED WITH OUR GREATNESS AND TERRIBLENESS SO SOON AFTER YOUR SISTER’S DISAPPEARANCE.”

“It wasn’t as bad as that,” you protest, lacing your fingers through his. “You surprised me yes, but I was glad to meet you. I was so afraid that I was alone in the universe.”

“YOU WILL NEVER BE ALONE, HUMAN,” Coal says. “EVEN IF WE ARE NOT PHYSICALLY PRESENT, THE PEOPLE WE L-LOVE STILL RESIDE WITHIN OUR SOULS. YOUR SISTER IS STILL WITH YOU.”

Your lip wobbles a bit at that and you scoot over, so that you are thigh to thigh bone with Coal. You place your head on his arm, burrowing into his jacket. You inhale the scent of leather and magic, relaxing a bit. “Thank you, Papyrus,” you say softly.

With your head tucked against him, you do not see the way his skull flushes a deep red, or the way that his eyelights shift to a different shape. You do feel his arm shift out from beneath you, cuddling you closer as he lays it across your back. “OF COURSE, Y/N. THAT IS WHY I CAME UP HERE. I WANTED TO LET YOU KNOW THAT I AM HERE FOR YOU; FOR ANYTHING THAT YOU NEED. YOU DO NOT NEED TO TRY TO SHOULDER THE BURDEN ALONE. I WOULD PREFER NOT TO LEAVE YOU TO CRY BY YOURSELF.” He clears his throat. “YOU ARE, AFTER ALL, UNDER MY PROTECTION. I UNDERSTAND IT MAY BE HARD TO TRUST--”

“I trust you,” you say into his jacket, voice firm. “You bared your SOUL to me; I trust you.” You sit together in charged silence for several moments before shifting a bit, wanting to lighten the tone. “I will make sure to come find you anytime I’m about to cry; use you as my shoulder to cry on.”

“NYEH!” Coal says, smirking at you. “YOU ARE MORE THAN WELCOME TO! I WILL ADD THE DUTY OF OFFICIAL ‘SHOULDER TO CRY UPON’ TO MY DAILY ROSTER OF ACTIVITIES!”

You laugh, poking his arm. “I don’t usually cry that often! Circumstances have just been odd recently.”

“REGARDLESS, IT IS ADDED TO MY LIST OF DUTIES! I WILL GLADLY CARRY YOU AROUND AND COMFORT YOU AS YOU CRY.”

“Ha, ha,” you say, rolling your eyes. You shift, glancing at your half-packed bags.

“I WILL TAKE MY LEAVE,” Coal says, standing up. He pauses, pulling off a glove and crouching between your knees, face pulled into fierce concentration. You blink, breath catching as his fingers gently trace the tacky tear tracks on your cheeks, clearing them away. “THERE.” His smile is gentle and teasing. “DUTY COMPLETE FOR THE DAY. SLEEP WELL, HUMAN.”

“You too, Papyrus,” you reply, flopping back onto the bed. You hadn’t even realized you were crying. “And Papyrus?” He pauses. “The same goes for you. Anytime you need to cry or anything else…”

He nods sharply, marching down the stairs as he readjusts his gloves.

You take a few moments, gathering yourself before hopping back to your feet. You have several things still left to do and, after that conversation, you feel lighter. You unpack the rest of your bags, tucking things away in their usual places before pulling on your pajamas. You settle yourself into bed, ready for sleep.

Only to find, after nearly an hour of tossing and turning, that your body doesn’t agree. Some nights are like this for you, where you’re so tired and yet unable to fall asleep. You swing yourself out of bed, pulling on a thick pair of socks and grabbing a quilt before approaching the window.

You throw it open, inhaling the crisp night air and listening to the sound of cicadas. You climb out the window, shifting carefully on your hands and knees over a peaked section (where there is a window on the floor below) onto a flat expanse of roof.

You take a seat, wrapping the quilt around yourself as you stare out at the lake below you. It glistens beneath the full moon, reflecting the celestial bodies like hundreds of beautiful, liquid jewels. You can feel the anxieties and worries that weigh down your mind lessen and even dissipate as you take in the view.

This is your oasis, the place you escaped to every time that the pressures of the world got to be too much. It’s your space. 

Well, yours and your sister’s. 

There were nights that you and she would spend up here, even falling asleep out here. There were days you would wake up here, with an oddly placed sunburn, but a deep set satisfaction that couldn’t be negated by that sort of passing pain.

You lay down, cushioning your head with your arm.

“huh, didn’t realize someone else would be up here.”

You yelp, curling in on yourself defensively. You peer out of the quilt burrito you’ve made, meeting Stretch’s amused gaze. “Hi,” you say, refusing to get embarrassed. You straighten out and sit up. “How’d you get up here? The only way is through the window in my bedroom.” And he approached you from the opposite side…

“i have a habit of getting into places i shouldn’t,” Stretch says, rubbing his skull with a lazy grin. You see the butt of a cigarette between his teeth. “i’m a bit surprised to see you out here.”

“Why’s that?” you ask.

“just...humans don’t have secret abilities to fly do they?”

Laughter bursts from you at the unexpected question. “What? No. No flight powers here. At least not without the assistance of technology.”

There’s a light flush on his face, though the color of it is washed out in the moonlight. “just checking. it seems a little dangerous is all.”

“Well sure,” you say. “If I got too close to the edge.” You’re a good five feet from it though. “I’ve been out here loads of times. What brings you up here?”

“needed a break,” Stretch says. “don’t get me wrong, the others are great, it’s just…”

You assess him, taking in his slightly hunched posture. There’s something about the posture, maybe the tightness to his sockets or the shallow movement of his chest, but he reminds you of your sister. And, if he is anything like your sister, he has social anxiety.

“Overwhelming?” you offer.

He pulls his attention away from the surroundings, looking at you. His eyelights are tiny, but they brighten as they meet yours. “exactly. still haven’t adjusted to the fact that they’re all...me and sans. blue,” he corrects belatedly with a flush.

“You’re welcome to call your brother by your name,” you say, heart squeezing. “I know who you’re talking about.”

“nah, it’s alright,” he says, though you see something ease in his expression. “i need to get in the habit.”

“It’s definitely not an easy thing to adjust to,” you say, picking up that thread. “I can’t even contemplate meeting alternate versions of myself and my sister. Especially when they’re so...different.”

“exactly!” Stretch says, looking relieved. “that’s exactly it. when i look at them, i don’t really see myself or my brother. i see clem and red...y’know?”

“I do,” you say. “Each of you are distinct people.”

“thanks for earlier,” Stretch says.

“For what?”

“the nicknames,” Stretch says, taking a drag of the cigarette. He keeps the smoke away from you so you don’t say anything. “it felt weird for this universe’s sans and papyrus to keep their names, while blue and i had to go by nicknames. just…”

“It wasn’t fair,” you say softly.

“yeah,” he says, just as quietly.

“Were you on the Surface before…” you trail off, unsure how to phrase the question.

“in our universe?” Stretch asks. “nah. still underground.”

“That had to be an adjustment; entering an alternate universe and being on the Surface to boot,” you say.

“it was. still is,” Stretch adds, scratching a cheek. He takes a heavy drag of the cigarette. “i like the variety of movies you have on the surface; underground the only movies were by napstablook.”

You lean forward, glad to see a sparkle in Stretch’s sockets. You poke your legs out from beneath the quilt, wiggling your toes in excitement. The surefire way to get your sister’s anxiety to melt away is to engage her interests and that seems true of Stretch too. “What’s your favorite genre? Found a favorite Surface movie?”

“i really enjoy horror movies,” Stretch says. “the dumber the better. it’s so much fun to make fun of the tropes and characters. s-- _ blue  _ isn’t a big fan, he always ends up wanting to fight the threat--” Stretch chuckles slightly. “--or the dumb characters. really, it just ends up with blue wanting to spar.”

“I love horror movies,” you say, unable to keep the enthusiasm out of your voice. “It can be so hard to find a good horror movie partner. If you’d be willing, I would absolutely be down for a horror movie marathon.” You perk up even further. “Oh! We could binge a horror movie show!”

“y--yeah?” Stretch asks, eyes flitting over you. His sockets linger at your feet, taking in the patterned fuzzy socks that cover your feet.  _ Cute _ . He flushes, meeting your excited, sparkling eyes. “you’d enjoy it?”

“Hell yes!” you reply. 

Your enthusiasm is broken by a wide yawn. You slap a hand over your mouth, giggling.

_ Cute _ .

“Well, I think that’s my cue,” you say with a wink. You roll out from beneath the quilt, missing Stretch’s aborted gesture to grab you and pull you out of danger. You crawl back toward your window, pausing and looking back at Stretch. “Have a good night, Stretch.”

“you too, y/n.”

You hesitate for a moment, before spreading the quilt over him. You smile when he regards you with befuddlement. “I look forward to talking with you more about horror tropes.” You waggle your brows. “Not sure if you’d be typecasted as the brilliant best friend or the mastermind villain.”

“heh, well, we can use the movie watching to decide that, right?” Stretch says. His sockets lid as he stares at you. “no need to do the same for you though. friendly, kind, and likes to live on the  _ edge _ ?” He gives the roof’s edge a significant look. “already got you pigeonholed. sleep well,  _ survivor girl. _ ”


	13. Chapter 13

Marsh comes awake slowly, the scent of fried meat heavy in the air. He hears the sound of muffled chatter from a few rooms over and he blinks blearily, drawing his hand across his skull.

He looks around, taking in the gauzy curtains and quilted blanket.

Huh.

He startles, remembering exactly what happened yesterday.

Or rather, who.

_ You _ .

Marsh moves with a speed he hasn’t in years as he leaps out of bed and races for the door, barely remembering to put on his slippers. He makes his way into the kitchen, taking in the sight that greets him.

Papyrus is seated at the table, completing a crossword with Jupiter. Blue is seated at the counter, chatting avidly with Coal, who is casually flipping a skillet of pancakes over the eye of the stove. They’re looking a bit crispy, but they aren’t accompanied by the acrid smell of burning. 

Marsh’s attention arrests on you, standing slightly in Coal’s shadow. Your focus is on the cast iron skillet in front of you, from which the heavenly smell of bacon emits. Marsh’s mouth waters at the scent and he steps forward, the floorboards creaking beneath him.

“BROTHER!” Papyrus calls, glancing up at him in surprise. “IT IS ODD FOR YOU TO BE AWAKE SO EARLY IN THE DAY! DO YOU HAVE A MEETING?”

“nah,” Marsh says, feeling awkward when you glance his way. He doesn’t know what to make of your expression; it’s so guarded and closed. He’s so used to seeing you in your element, both at Grillby’s and at the university, so the fact that you’re like this with  _ him... _ well, it stings. But he knows that isn’t fair to you, you don’t know him and the circumstances of your introduction are anything but pleasant. The fact that you can even stand to be in his presence is a gift. “just figured it was time to get up.” He looks at you, nervous. “this sort of cooking could  _ raise the dead _ , y’know?”

“IF ONLY IT WOULD WORK ON MY LAZYBONES OF A BROTHER,” Coal says, shaking his head both at his brother and at Marsh’s pun.

You smile though, huffing at the pun and Marsh counts it as a win. “This batch will be ready in a few. Grab a seat.”

“anything i can do to help?” Marsh asks, eager to be of assistance. He can feel Papyrus’s gaze on him, but he doesn’t care, watching you.

You and Coal exchange glances and Marsh doesn’t care for the fact that a silent conversation can occur between the two of you. He isn’t afraid to admit his jealousy; Coal has only been present in this universe for a handful of days and yet he’s earned your friendship. He’s earned your trust.

And Marsh has known you--well, as much as one-sided observation can count as knowing--for nearly two years now.

“I think we have breakfast covered,” you say. Your gaze flits around for a moment before settling back on Marsh. Your mouth tugs down slightly. “There is something you could do to help.”

“yeah?” Marsh asks, trying not to seem overly eager.

“Take me to the machine,” you reply, meeting his eyes directly.

Marsh immediately deflates, though he doesn’t know why he was surprised by your request. You want your sister back; of course this is what you would ask for.

“i can’t.” He sees the way you snap to attention and he can feel the magic that rises off Coal at the perceived slight. Marsh hastens to explain, hating the hurt that lines your features. “not yet. it isn’t currently safe for humans. only those with void magic can approach it.” Both you and Coal flinch at that and Marsh wonders why. He’ll dig into it later. “i’ll start getting it fixed up though. should take a couple of days, maybe a week, but you’ll be able to approach it.”

“i’ll help,” Stretch says with a wide yawn as he takes a seat at the table. His head lists like he’s about to fall back to sleep. “we’ll get it sorted for you, hon.”

“RED WILL ACCOMPANY YOU,” Coal says, voice imperious. Marsh scowls, hating the airs that Coal carries, but hating even more the relief that eases your expression in response to his words. Why the hell do you trust this violent loudmouth?  Why don’t you trust  _ him _ ? “IT WILL BE GOOD EXERCISE FOR THE LAZYBONES.”

Marsh knows, he  _ knows _ , it’s because Coal doesn’t trust him. Well, Marsh sure as hell doesn’t trust this iteration of brothers; their LV and EXP is far too high (though their EXP is nowhere near as high as Jupiter’s or Mars’s).

“Sounds like a plan,” you say, dishing up the bacon from your skillet onto paper towels to press out the extra grease. “What are the other plans for the day?”

“I WILL BE PATROLLING THE FOREST AS IS MY WONT!” Papyrus declares.

“BAH,” Coal says, shaking his head. “I SHALL PATROL AS WELL, IF ONLY TO MAKE SURE THAT NOTHING SLIPS THROUGH THE CRACKS!”

Marsh can feel his magic stir in response to Coal’s overt snub of his brother, but he stills it. Papyrus isn’t bothered (he is the coolest after all), so he won’t get worked up over it. Besides, Marsh knows he needs to save his energy for his time with the machine. These next few days are going to be brutally exhausting, but it’s worth it.

_ You’re  _ worth it.

“I was planning on going grocery shopping,” you say. You dart over to the counter, pulling out a lined sheet of paper and passing it to Blue. “Feel free to add anything you need.” You look over them all. “All of you.”

Marsh’s SOUL pinches at your casual generosity. They’re all little more than strangers, infringing on your property, yet you’re so willing to house and feed them. He knows he doesn’t deserve your kindness.

“I WOULD LIKE TO ACCOMPANY YOU,” Blue says.

“AS WOULD I!” Jupiter exclaims, nearly bouncing in his seat. Marsh finds it hard to look at him; between his stats and his face, there’s something just entirely unsettling about Jupiter. He  _ really  _ needs to get to the bottom of what the hell happened in Jupiter and Mars’s universe. “I HAVE NEVER BEEN TO ‘GROCERY SHOPPING’ BEFORE!”

You smile, but Marsh can read the sadness in the lines of it. Do you know their background? He wouldn’t put it past you. If  _ Marsh _ could trust you without ever speaking to you, he wouldn’t be all that surprised that other versions of himself and his brother would too.

As much as it pissed him off.

“I think you’ll enjoy it, Jupiter,” you say. “Let’s invite Mars too.”

“OF COURSE!” Jupiter says. 

You dish up a few plates of pancakes and bacon, setting one in front of Marsh. He grabs your wrist before you can pull away, slipping a card into your hand. You look down at it, frowning quizzically.

“use it,” Marsh says firmly, even as he flushes at the feel of your skin beneath his touch. You’re so  _ soft _ and  _ warm _ . You open your mouth to protest but he speaks first, “listen, we’ve invaded your home. it’s only fair for you to be compensated, at the very least for the groceries. whatever you get, put it on this card.” He pauses, eyeing you. He knows your SOUL well enough to seal the deal. “it’s only fair.”

You close your mouth, tension easing from your shoulders and eyes. The burden of having to pay for nine people lifts from you as you stare down at the credit card. “Alright.” You lift your eyes to Marsh, regarding him with a smile. “Thanks for this. I’ll try not to max it out.”

Marsh chuckles, SOUL throbbing at the fact that you are looking at him with such a kind smile.  _ Him _ . “do your worst. it’s, uh, retail therapy, right?”

You laugh and Marsh feels his SOUL threaten to pull you into an Encounter. He abruptly pulls his gaze away from yours, redirecting it to the plate in front of him. “thanks for this,” he says, releasing your wrist.

His hand immediately feels cold and he resists the urge to groan, knowing he’s in far too deep.

He takes a bite of the food, tasting the Intent behind it.

Working together to accomplish shared goals. New beginnings. Tentative friendship.

Marsh flushes, slouching further into his hoodie.

Shit.

You’re seriously too cute for your own good.

* * *

Blue appraises you as you eye two different boxes of cereal with a look of…Well, Blue still cannot consider himself an expert on humanity, he’s only been around humans for six weeks and several days, but he’s learning a lot! He’s made a habit of studying human films, ranging from romantic comedies to period dramas to those Toriel damned slasher flicks that Papyrus is so fond of. (Papyrus always consumes the unhealthy options, of course he chooses the junk-food of movies too!) In any case, he’s studied those movies and the six universal facial expressions that human researchers tout as accurate. But your expression doesn’t fall into one of those. Really, it kind of reminds him of one of the period dramas he watched; the way your brows draw and your lips pucker make him think of…longing? Forlornness?

But why would you regard cereal in such a manner?

“Y/N, ARE YOU WELL?” Blue asks, stopping the cart beside you.

You startle and Blue is fascinated by the way that your eyes brighten with recognition as you regard him. Your features are so different from a skeleton’s, but there are aspects that translate. He can feel his magic stirring in excitement at that thought and he stifles it, knowing that changing eyelight shapes are one of the things that do  _ not  _ appear in humans.

“Sorry,” you say, lips twisting as you put the box of cookie crisps back and take a couple of other varieties. You toss them into the cart with a practiced ease, but Blue can see the tightness of the skin around your eyes. “I guess I zoned out there for a bit. It was a little rough getting to sleep last night.”

“DID WE KEEP YOU UP?” Blue asks, picking up your desire to shift the subject. For whatever reason, you didn’t want to go into why you were sad. And Blue certainly won’t push you.

“No, no, nothing like that,” you reply. “Just a lot on my mind, I suppose.”

“WELL, IT IS CERTAINLY A LOT TO PROCESS,” Blue says, pushing the cart as you head further down the aisle. “PLEASE, LET ME KNOW IF THERE IS ANYTHING I CAN DO TO BE OF ASSISTANCE!”

Your lips curve into a smile, one that reaches your eyes and Blue clears his throat, looking away. He’s never been out before like this with a human; there were no humans who fell Underground in his universe. At least, not in his or Papy’s lifetime. And here, for the scant few weeks he’s been here, humans are abundant and, at least where he lives, very casual about interactions. He hasn’t really had the chance to get close to anyone yet; he’s so concerned with getting Papy situated and making a sustainable life for them both. Papyrus is so wrapped up in working on the machine with Marsh, so he’s been shouldering all of the day-to-day responsibilities. Just being able to walk through the store with someone is wonderful.

There’s something about the simple domesticity of it that warms him, tugs at his SOUL. He quickly refocuses his attention, knowing how rude it is to start an Encounter without consent.

But maybe, if you would be amenable, you could have an Encounter later?

* * *

“HUMAN, LOOK AT THE BOUNTY WE’VE FOUND!” Jupiter exclaims, rolling up a cart beside the both of you.

“Wow!” you say, looking at the utter abundance of foodstuffs piled high in the cart. “Looks like you scored big, Jupiter!”

“NYEH, THE GREAT PAP- _ JUPITER _ IS QUITE SKILLED IN FORAGING!” Jupiter says, drawing you over to goggle at his conquest. “S- _ MARS _ , IS COMING WITH THE REST!”

“The rest?” you repeat faintly, jumping at the odd fizzing sensation of Void magic as Mars pops into existence with  _ two _ more full carts alongside him. You eye him and the carts for a moment, brows raised. You’re  _ really  _ glad Marsh gave you the credit card earlier. You aren’t able to afford all of this. “It’s been fifteen minutes.” You aren’t sure whether to be impressed or concerned, but, knowing their history, you aren’t especially surprised. (You need to talk to them about therapy...and medical care in general. You need to look into local neurologists and orthodontists. Would they need specialized monster care? Does such a thing exist? When you take them to New Home for registration you could maybe get some of these questions answered. You’ll do research later tonight.) So, you choose to go with being impressed. You peer into Mars’s cart, brightening as you see his score. “Popato chisps? Stars, I haven’t had those in years!”

“heh, me either, kid,” Mars says, flexing his hands. “would ya—would ya like some?”

Jupiter makes an expression of surprise behind Mars and you yourself feel the urge to let your jaw drop. You know their past, you  _ know _ just how recently they’ve dealt with the ever-present threat of starvation. So for Mars to be willing to part voluntarily of any of his food…

“Thank you, Mars,” you say, trying to impart your words with the depth of your gratitude. “I’ll go grab a bag or two from the shelf though, what aisle is it?”

There’s that eerie, familiar sensation of Void magic as he winks out of existence for a few moments, only to reappear seconds later.

“here,” he says, dumping seven bags of popato chisps into your arms, eyelight soft as he regards you. “you’re too small.”

“Everyone is small in comparison to you, Mars,” you say, amused. You look down at the bags of chisps again, softening. “Thank you.”

“don’t mention it, kid,” Mars says, crossing his arms.

You place the bags of chisps into the cart Blue is pushing, glancing over your list. Everyone’s added things to it, but you think you’ve gotten everything.

“Anything else you wanted to get while we’re here?” you ask.

“IS THERE AN AISLE FOR PILLOWS?” Jupiter asks. “WE WERE PREOCCUPIED WITH PROCURING FOOD.”

“Pillows?” you say. “Do you not like the ones in the cabin?”

“IT’S NOT THAT,” Jupiter says, but he doesn’t clarify any further.

You wait for several moments for an explanation, but you don’t receive one. “Yeah, no worries. I can take you to the aisle.”

You lead them there and stand by, bemused, as all three of them load down the carts with pillows and blankets. Mars even shortcuts away to grab another cart solely for pillows. They nearly clear the store’s stock, but they seem quite satisfied as you head to the check out. You leave it be, despite the burgeoning questions that fill you. Considering Jupiter’s earlier evasiveness, you figure it’s a sensitive topic.

* * *

“ALLOW ME TO ASSIST YOU, Y/N!”

You turn, smiling at Blue. “Sure thing, Blue,” you say, tying your apron around your waist. You enjoy cooking, but you usually manage to make a mess of yourself. “There’s an extra apron on the door!”

You turn back to the cutting board, slicing tomatillos in half and placing them on a cookie sheet. You hear Blue rustle around behind you before he rounds the island to join you. You glance at him, lips twitching at the picture he presents. He’s dressed in your grandmother’s favorite apron, a floral, frilly number with some additional hand embroidery that both she and your sister did. Honestly though, Blue manages to rock it.

“WHAT IS ON THE MENU?” Blue asks, looking over the ingredients. “TORTILLAS, ONIONS, TOMATOES, GROUND BEEF--” He trails off for a moment, mouth closing. “ARE WE MAKING TACOS?”

“Yes,” you say, uncertain what to make of his tone. “That’s the plan at least. You mentioned it last night--”

“WOWIE!” Blue says, volume even louder than usual. “THAT IS...UNEXPECTED. AND VERY KIND. YOU--YOU REMEMBERED WHAT I SAID?”

“Of course,” you say. “It was only last night.” You pause, thinking on it for a moment. “Oh! And you wanted to cook them together, which is exactly what we’re doing! Thanks for joining me, Blue.”

Blue is standing right beside you so you have an up close look at the way his eyelights shift, swirling into bright blue stars. You step closer, noticing the way the glow of his eyelights flare alongside the blush across his skull.

“Huh.”

“WHAT IS IT?” Blue asks, watching you nervously.

“How do your eyes do that?” you ask, reaching out to touch him. You remember yourself at the last second, freezing with your hand inches from his skull. “Shift shapes like that? It’s really cool.”

“OH,  _ THAT _ .” The stars in his sockets spin slightly and you watch avidly. “IT’S AN INSTINCTUAL RESPONSE TO EMOTION I SUPPOSE. PAP--STRETCH’S EYELIGHTS DON’T USUALLY SHIFT, PERHAPS BECAUSE THEY ARE SO SMALL, BUT MINE HAVE ALWAYS CHANGED TO STARS WHEN I GET EXCITED!”

“That’s seriously cool,” you say. “Do they change into other shapes? Respond to other emotions? Do you think that the others experience it as well?”

Blue’s eyelights dart toward your hand, still hovering by his face. So close, but so far away. He’s fascinated again by the differences between human and skeleton anatomy; the lines along your skin that mark the places where your hand bends and the nails that protect your fingertips.

_ Cute _ .

“I DO NOT KNOW IF THEY CHANGE INTO OTHER SHAPES,” Blue says, still looking at your hands. There are little freckles across the skin and something about them catches his attention. He wants to trace them, map them out to quench his curiosity. “NO ONE HAS EVER MENTIONED ANY OTHER SHAPES AND I DO NOT MAKE A HABIT OF CARRYING A MIRROR AROUND WITH ME.” You laugh at that, just like he intended, and he can  _ feel _ the spinning of his eyelights pick up at the sound. “PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU NOTICE ANY OTHER SHAPES. THEY USUALLY SHIFT TO STARS ANYTIME I EXPERIENCE STRONG POSITIVE EMOTIONS...ANYTHING THAT CAN STIR ME REALLY. I’M NOT SURE ABOUT THE OTHERS.” Blue thinks about the other Sanses, trying to imagine them with stars in their eyes. He just can’t see it. “IT MIGHT BE POSSIBLE?”

“Huh,” you say, fingers twitching as you take in the information.

Blue can’t help himself at that point, reaching up and grabbing your hand. You don’t resist him; you just watch him with a raised brow. He can feel a little bit of sweat bead on his skull--he didn’t think this through--but he won’t back down here.

“YOUR ANATOMY IS INTERESTING AS WELL,” Blue says, raising your hand palm up. He traces his pointer finger over the lines of your fingers, so similar to the segmented bones of his, yet so different. “YOUR HANDS ARE SO SOFT.”

You flush, shivering a bit at his gentle ministrations. It tickles a bit. “I don’t know if I called them soft,” you say. “They’re callused.”

Blue laughs, starry eyes brightening. “Y/N, YOUR HANDS ARE ALWAYS GOING TO BE SOFT BY COMPARISON TO THESE--” He wiggles his fingers. “--YOU CAN’T COMPETE WITH A LITERAL SKELETON WHEN IT COMES TO SOFTNESS; YOU’LL ALWAYS WIN.”

You chuckle a bit too. “I guess so. I hadn’t thought of it like that.”

“THESE SPOTS ARE INTERESTING TOO,” Blue says, turning your hand over. “YOUR SKIN ISN’T UNIFORMLY A SINGLE COLOR, THERE ARE BLUES AND REDS AND THESE DOTS TOO.”

“The blue comes from my veins and the red comes from my blood,” you say. “Those dots are either freckles or moles; they’re brought on by the sun.”

Blue drags his finger over one freckle, connecting it to another just as you used to do in middle school with a pen. Your sister did it too sometimes, when she was bored. It feels somehow different when Blue does it, perhaps because of the utter fascination that encompasses Blue’s expressione. You both spend a few moments absorbed in the way Blue draws imaginary lines across your skin, uniting the individual freckles into a complicated web of dots and lines.

“You know, I used to think that if I got enough freckles, they’d all blend together into a single mass,” you say, voice softer than you intended. You keep it quiet, unwilling to break the oddly intimate moment. You wiggle your fingers at him, brushing up along his phalanges. “As you can see, that didn’t quite happen.”

“WHY WOULD YOU WANT IT TO?” Blue asks. “IT WOULD BE FAR LESS INTERESTING THAT WAY.”

“Interesting?” you repeat.

“YOUR DOTS LOOK LIKE STARS,” Blue says, his eyelights and smile bright. “YOU CAN FORM SO MANY CONSTELLATIONS FROM THEM! AND EACH TIME, YOU CAN MAKE SOMETHING DIFFERENT. WHY ON EARTH WOULD YOU WANT THEM TO BLEND TOGETHER?”

Your laugh sounds startled to your own ears as you giggle at the absolute sincerity that coats Blue’s words. Your heart warms at the compliment, knowing just how sweet being compared to the sky is, when it comes from a monster. You turn your hand, entwining your fingers with Blue’s phalanges.

“Well, it seems our anatomy isn’t too different after all,” you say.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN?”

“You have stars in your eyes and I have stars on my skin,” you say with a bright smile. “We’re united by the sky we share.”

Blue’s flush deepens and you are surprised to see the shape of the his starry eyelights wobble, like they are trying to return to circles before firming up as stars once more.

“YEAH,” Blue says, voice thick. “WE ARE.” He squeezes your hand, turning his eyelights back to the counter. “NOW, LET’S MAKE THOSE TACOS! I’M SURE MY BROTHER AND THE OTHERS WILL BE BACK FROM THE MACHINE SOON!”

* * *

“can i talk to ya?” 

You look up from your tablet, meeting Red’s eyelights. He stands at the top of your stairs, standing in a way that makes him look small and nonthreatening. You haven’t really spoken with him since last night after his...distasteful suggestion for Jupiter’s nickname. He never came up for breakfast and he avoided conversation at lunch today. So, honestly, you’re a bit surprised to see him approach you now.

“Sure,” you say, sitting up and beckoning him into your room. He ambles in, hovering awkwardly until you pat the bedspread and he takes a seat beside you. You think you’ll probably need to hang a curtain over the door frame or something, anything for some semblance of privacy. “What’s up?”

Red fidgets with the quilt, claws playing with the fabric in a tic quite similar to his younger brother’s. It makes you smile slightly. “well, uh, i didn’t want to leave things strange between us, danger. doesn’t feel right to have ya avoid me.”

You frown. “I haven’t been the one avoiding you.” You cross your arms, staying firm. “I won’t apologize for how I responded last night. I could’ve been a bit kinder about it, yeah, but you were out of line.”

“i ain’t here for yer apology, darlin’,” Red says, scowling slightly. It makes his sharp teeth and golden tooth more prominent. You know he cuts an intimidating figure, he and Coal both do, but you just can’t regard him in that way. He just doesn’t scare you. He scrubs a hand over his face, sighing. “i’m the one who needs to apologize. i’ve been a dumbass.”

He stops there and you watch him, lips quirking in a smirk. You lean into him a bit, nudging his side. “Was that your attempt at an apology? Because nowhere did I hear ‘I’m sorry.’”

“i’m getting there, doll; don’t rush me,” Red growls, but you can see the beginnings of a grin on his face. “really ruining the surprise ending there, aren’t ya?”

“I’m not sure if the whole point of an apology can really be surprising when you’re apologizing,” you say, charmed nonetheless.

“maybe not in this universe,” Red murmurs. He leans into you in turn, wrapping an arm around your waist. “trust me, trouble, this whole thing would be a helluva surprise in my world.”

You frown, saddened by that. To come from a world where a simple apology is so rare as to be surprising is...well, it’s disheartening. You wrap both your arms around Red, turning to embrace him fully. You tuck your head down into the fluff of his hood. Your skin brushes against leather and you notice a collar around his neck. Huh. Has that been there the whole time? “I’m sorry,” you say sincerely.

“heh,” Red says, hands twitching as his skull flushes a deep, burning red. He’s not really sure what he’s supposed to do in this situation. He’s never been hugged before. Where do his hands go? Does he touch you? Does he not? Red clears his throat, feeling strangely at your mercy despite the way you are so vulnerably splayed across him. “i thought i was the one doing the apologizing here.”

“Oh, you are,” you reply firmly. His grin lifts at that, enjoying your fire. “But I’m saying sorry for a different reason. I’m sorry that you come from a world where apologies are so hard to come by.”

“that--that’s not yer fault,” Red says softly, afraid that his voice will crack if he raises it. He finally settles his hands tentatively on your back, unwilling to exert any pressure at all.

“I know,” you say, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze. Red feels his face burn hotter as he looks into your eyes, reading the alien compassion there. “But someone needs to say it. So I will.”

Red just marvels at you for several moments, unsure how to respond. He’s never met anyone like you before, someone so reckless with their affection and friendship. And yet, so aware. Your compassion is guided by an understanding of the cruelty of the world.

He’s never met anyone as brave as you.

“...thanks,” he says finally, knowing he needs to respond somehow. His hands fist in your shirt, though he is mindful of his claws to keep from tearing the shirt or scratching you. “i am sorry for what i said last night. it wasn’t kind.”

“Thank you,” you say, wiggling one hand free of your hug to cup his face. He wonders if you can feel the heat of his face over the searing warmth of your hand. “However, I’m not the one you should be apologizing to. I think you really hurt Jupiter’s feelings.”

Red sighs. “i know. i’ll apologize to him later today.”

“I’m glad,” you say. “I am sorry for how harsh I was; I was angry, but it was out of line.”

“nah, ya weren’t,” Red says. “i know i can be a real  _ numbskull  _ sometimes. ya needed to be firm to get through my  _ thick skull _ .”

You wrinkle your nose at him, even as you laugh. It’s a strange expression and Red watches you with an aching affection in his SOUL, hands pressing you all the tighter to him. He doesn’t want to let you go. Not now, not ever.

“try not to  _ hold it against me _ ,” Red says, waggling his brow bones at you.

“Little hard to do,” you say through your laughter. “What with you holding me against you.”

Red feels his eyelights shifting and he tucks you up against him, unwilling to let you see his feelings even as he laughs helplessly at your response. They say eyes are the window to the SOUL and he knows it’s true in his case.

Shit.

He’s in deep.


	14. Chapter 14

You wake from your light nap with a start, looking around your room drowsily. It takes you a moment to realize where you are and, as you do, you slump back into the bed with a sigh.

It’s odd for you to feel so...rudderless, purposeless. You’re used to having clear set objectives, but, from your brief talk with Marsh earlier, you won’t be able to approach the machine for nearly a week. You made sure to confirm it with Red and Stretch; it isn’t that you don’t trust Marsh but…

Well, you don’t really trust Marsh. 

It has nothing to do with him personally, from what little you’ve seen he seems swell, it’s just--well, his actions are directly responsible for your sister’s disappearance.

His obvious remorse is going a long way to repairing that damage, but you doubt the distrust will disappear until he brings you to the root of the issue.

And, unfortunately, you won’t get to see the machine until a week from now.

You throw off your blanket, unable to lay still any longer. You restlessly pace the room for a moment, eyes flitting around as you seek something,  _ anything _ , to do. You catch sight of something outside your window and you pause, a slow smile crossing your face.

That will do just fine.

You spend a few moments getting ready, tucking a book under one arm and a pillow under the other as you slide your window open and climb out onto the roof. You take the practiced path back to your favorite spot, placing your pillow and situating yourself for a nice long read.

Spread below you is the lake, glittering beneath the high afternoon sun. You are thankful for the shade cast by the shadows of the house and you delve into your book eagerly, glad to have a bit of time to yourself.

You lose yourself in the book, a popular text on the implementation of magic on the Surface.

You’re about two-thirds through the book when you hear a shout, followed by the crackling feel of magic in the air as a wall of red appears in front of you.

You yelp, drawing your legs in close.

“Y/N, DO NOT FEAR! I WILL GET YOU DOWN FROM THERE. SANS, COME HERE! SANS!” You hear Coal yelling, a panicked tinge to his voice.

“Coal!” you call in turn. You can’t see anything beyond the near solid wall of magic bones. You get to your feet, peering over the bones. You can see Coal striding up from the dock, dressed in his full tactical gear. You guess he’s just returned from patrolling and you’re impressed by how easily he spotted you. You’re several stories above him and you’re tucked away in the shadows. “Coal, it’s fine, I promise!”

“**S I T** **D O W N**!” Coal barks. 

You can  _ see  _ the red glow of his eyelights even from the distance. A bone materializes in front of you, acting as a bar to push you down. You resist it, hearing the fear in Coal’s voice. You need to reassure him and that won’t be possible if he can’t see you.

“Papyrus,” you say firmly, voice calm and even. The bone doesn’t dissipate, but it stops pushing on you. You have his attention. “I am alright. I promise you. I climbed out here.”

“BUT THAT ISN’T SAFE?!” He seems baffled.

“I know,” you say. “But this is important to me.”

Coal snaps to attention, nodding. “OF COURSE,” he says. “I APOLOGIZE FOR OVERSTEPPING MY BOUNDARIES--”

“You didn’t,” you interrupt immediately. You can’t make out his expression from here, but you’re guessing it’s riddled with regret. You don’t want to discourage his actions, as they were well-intentioned. “It’s never wrong to be concerned for a friend. In fact, I would  _ love _ for you to join me.”

“REALLY?”

“Of course!” you say, beckoning over the bone wall. “C’mon up.” You pause, looking at the wall of bones wryly. Even in his remorse, he wasn’t willing to compromise your safety. It warms something in your chest. “You can even leave this wall up until you get here.”

“MWEH HEH HEH! WHAT MAKES YOU THINK I WON’T KEEP THE WALL UP THE WHOLE TIME?” Coal asks, even as he continues to approach the cabin.

“You won’t need to; you’ll be here to protect me,” you say simply.

Coal stops, stiffening. His skull erupts in a violent blush and he places a shaky hand over his mouth for a moment, composing himself. He pulls it away and glares up at you, but the effect is moot with the fetching flush on his face. “VERY WELL HUMAN, YOU WIN THIS ROUND. YOU ARE QUITE CRAFTY WHEN YOU WISH TO BE! I WILL BE THERE SHORTLY TO PROVIDE YOU PROTECTION.”

* * *

“what are you doing?”

You look up, thankfully keeping your hand steady. Stretch is standing in the doorway of the living room, sockets trained on you. His mouth is flat and you can’t quite tell if he’s disgusted or confused by you.

“I’m painting my toenails,” you reply, wiggling said toes in his direction.

Stretch shuffles forward slightly, attention following the small brush held in your fingers. “huh.”

“No one’s ever painted their nails or claws around you?” you ask, returning your focus to your work. You purse your lips, thinking for a moment. “I know that scale painting got popular among some reptile monsters when they reached the Surface.”

“never,” Stretch says, perching on a cushion beside you. This close, you can see the way his small eyelights brighten with curiosity, looking strikingly similar to his older brother in the moment. You wonder if his eyelights can shift into other shapes too. “is it permanent?”

“No, not at all. It tends to chip away pretty quickly and you can also remove it with a polish remover,” you say. You’re briefly entertained by the flare in the brightness of his eyelights. “Would you like to try it?”

“what?” he asks belatedly, finally drawing his gaze away from your feet to meet your eyes.

“Would you like to try using nail polish?” you say, holding the bottle out to him. You turn, grabbing up the container full of different nail polishes. You found it last night when you were rifling around the loft, a remnant from the time you spent here with your sister and cousins. You see the indecision in his face and you gentle your smile. “I was planning to do a coat on top of the first, add a little glitter to it. Would you like to paint it on?”

Stretch’s hands reach for the container before faltering for a moment. “you sure?” he asks. “i won’t hurt you or anything?”

“You won’t hurt me,” you confirm, charmed by his concern. “I won’t really feel it at all, just the pressure you exert.”

“okay. okay,” he mutters. “which one?”

“How about you choose?” you say. You grab out the translucent polishes and set them up on the table in front of you. “Any of those will work just fine.”

Stretch frowns. “that’s a lot of choices.”

“This is our master collection of nail polishes,” you say, faintly embarrassed. “We’ve collected them for years.”

“i’m uh--i’m not the best with choices.” You may be reading him wrong--you’re still learning how to understand skeleton expressions--but you think he looks a bit bitter. “it takes me a long time to decide.”

You shrug. “So what? I’ve got time.”

He turns to you, incredulous. “seriously, it drives sans up the wall sometimes with how indecisive i can be.”

“That’s okay,” you say. “Seriously, all I’ve got for these next few days is nothing but time.”

“you’re sure,” Stretch says, regarding you with a mix of wonder and incredulity.

“Yep!” you say. “Do your worst, Stretch.”

* * *

Stretch watches you for several more moments, waiting for you to change your mind. You don’t, content to sit back and watch him in turn. Your eyebrows are raised and Stretch is caught off guard once more about how easy it is to read human beings. Their features and range of expressions are pretty close to skeletons. You’re expectant, but not impatient or in any way upset with him.

That’s...new.

Sans is infinitely patient with him, but Stretch is a master of body language, he knows when his brother starts to get antsy. Sans is a go-getter, a skeleton of action who accomplishes everything he sets out to do. Stretch is different and knows it; he is often paralyzed into inaction because he’s so good at figuring out all of the variables at play and all of the possible outcomes. 

He’s too good at figuring out every consequence his actions may possibly have.

It’s why he enjoys slasher horror movies so much; they’re formulaic to the point of being textbook. It’s easy to figure out the choices that will be made. And it’s nice to use his uncanny ability to decipher patterns in a consequence-free environment.

It does make it hard for him to garner friends; his anxiety always threatens to strip away the enjoyment of being with a friend. What’s the best way to impress someone else? How can he make sure to show his best self to others? His best  and only  friend is Undyne because they share similar anxieties. And it’s a lot easier to be friends from the other side of a screen. He can edit himself, perfect himself, and not worry nearly as much about reading body language. 

Sure, there are other problems that emerge, but he finds that sort of friendship is the easiest for him to sustain.

So, he is not used to this type of situation, interacting with someone other than his brother in real time. His job of data analysis keeps him away from others, working remotely to process the auditing information on big companies.

Stretch isn’t really sure where to look, but he watches you in his periphery. You’ve picked up a book on magic and you seem utterly absorbed in it. He detects no signs of unease or restlessness in your posture.

Huh.

He focuses in on the nail polishes before him, thirteen in all. Stretch sorts them into different categories, first by their immediate appeal to him, followed by how well they complement the base coat of paint you’re wearing. Stretch glances up at you at random intervals and at times you smile back at him, though mostly you remain entirely engaged in your reading.

Every time though, he doesn’t see any anger or distaste marring your expression.

Stretch relaxes in increments until he’s loose and languid with a single bottle selected. “this one,” he says, raising it toward you.

You close your book, grinning. “Nice choice,” you reply, peering at the bottle. It reminds you a bit of mother of pearl; it’ll add a shimmering iridescence to your current polish. “Go right ahead.”

Stretch blinks. Truthfully, the fact that he was painting your nails slipped his mind a bit in the decision-making process. Now, with you wiggling your  cute  toes at him, it is the  _ only _ thing on his mind.

“oh.”

Stretch shifts into a better position, reaching out tentatively to take your foot. He’s surprised by just how warm you are, the heat soaking into his bone. You move with him, propping your foot on his knee as he contemplates your nails. As he is trying to figure out the best way to approach this, Stretch realizes that this is the first time he’s ever touched a human.

He pauses for a moment, savoring that revelation before returning to the task at hand. Stretch maneuvers your foot around, marveling at your flexibility. Stretch watches as you flex your foot, the bones beneath standing out against your skin. He can  _ feel _ your bones.

Stretch shivers, jerking when you call his name softly.

“what?” he asks, not looking at you. He’s afraid his eyelights might betray him.

“You okay?”

“yeah, i’m fine. you just got a bit  _ under my skin  _ for a second,” Stretch says, squeezing your ankle.

“Oh yeah? I never thought you’d have such  _ thin skin _ ,” you reply, poking him with a toe.

He huffs out a laugh, shoulders relaxing slightly. He doesn’t know you, not really, but if you enjoy horror movies and puns, you can’t be too bad. In fact, he hopes he can be friends with you. Stretch takes his time, examining the curve of your foot, the high arch that highlights your underlying bone structure. You don’t seem to mind his examination or even his wandering fingers, your gaze never straying from your book.

His brush strokes are easy but thorough, fully and evenly coating your nails. The nails themselves are fascinating to him, as there is no skeletal equivalent.

All too soon though, it’s over and he reluctantly releases your feet. You glance down and he does too.

_ Wow _ .

You have, uh, really cute feet. Stretch knows it’s a strange thought to have, that he’s weird for letting his mind jump to that conclusion, but it’s true. The color really complements your skin tone and the mother of pearl sheen he just added makes them pop.

And, well, your feet exemplify some of the most skeletal qualities you have, as well as highlighting the stark differences in skeleton and human anatomy.

It makes him wonder where else you are similar and different from him.

“how’d i do?” Stretch asks, capping the bottle.

“This looks amazing,” you reply, admiring your toes. You stand suddenly, walking carefully but quickly with the weight on your heels to a window. You place your toes beneath the shaft of sunlight, turning back to look at Stretch with an excited grin. “It looks even better in the sun!”

Stretch takes you in, your balance on your heels and the smile on your face that invites him to share in your joy. His SOUL lurches in response and he touches his chest, brow furrowing.

Huh. 

_ That’s  _ new.

* * *

“you free kid?” Mars asks, tapping belatedly on your wall.

You glance up from your computer, the furrow between your brow easing. You’ve been going through your backed up emails and the burden of your paused responsibilities threatens to crush you. So, truthfully, you’re glad for the distraction.

“Sure thing,” you reply, hopping to your feet. “What’s up?”

“nothing,” Mars says immediately. You can see his fingers twitching in a nervous manner. “just...would you be willing to come downstairs?”

“SANS, HAVE YOU PROCURED THE HUMAN?” Jupiter’s voice drifts upstairs from the basement.

“working on it,” Mars says.

“What’s up, Jupiter?” you call.

“IT’S A SURPRISE, NYEH!”

You smile at Mars. “Do I need to close my eyes?”

“yeah,” Mars replies. “i’ll guide you.”

You stand, closing your eyes and holding your hand out to Mars. Mars takes it gingerly, your hand encompassed completely by his palm. Mars takes a moment to just consider your difference in size. He’s just so much bigger than you. It reminds him fleetingly of when Papyrus was a baby-bones and he suddenly feels very protective of you. You’re just so...fragile.

“new plan,” Mars says, shifting around. 

You keep your eyes closed, but he can sense your unasked question. He doesn’t bother to respond, he’s not the best at words since the head injury. He’s more about action anyway. Mars turns his back toward you, crouching down. He pulls the hand you offered over one shoulder and grasps the other, maneuvering you lightly to loop your arms around his neck. He stands, holding you beneath your legs.

You gasp in surprise, right against his skull and Mars can feel the rush of air in and out of your mouth. This was a spur of the moment decision and he didn’t exactly consider the ramifications.

Like the way your body is pressed up against his, your heat soaking into his frame. Or the fact that he can feel the air entering and leaving your body in soft, easy breaths; a sign of the precious life within you. Or the way your hands unwittingly graze his clavicle, a soft, intimate touch of the sort that Mars is wholly unfamiliar with. And, perhaps most damning of all, he can actually  _ feel _ the hum of your SOUL, vibrant and healthy against his back. He can feel his own SOUL shiver in turn, wanting to match your melody.

It would be so easy to draw you into an Encounter--

“SANS! WHAT ARE YOU DOING, YOU LAZYBONES?”

Mars jerks back to the present, flushing in embarrassment. His daydreaming has gotten out of control since the head injury, but he’s never had a daydream of this sort of nature.

Friendly Encounters? He must be out of his mind.

He takes you down the stairs, wavering only for a moment when you press your face into his hoodie. He ignores the thoughts that come to mind about how cute you are, instead trying to remember when he used to carry Papyrus around this way.

In this manner, he finally gets you down to the basement, entering the large room that he and Papyrus have claimed for themselves. It’s the best fortified, especially with the recent updates they’ve made to it.

He meets his brother’s gaze, smiling at his cross posture. Really though, Papyrus is just the coolest.

Papyrus squints at the human on Mars’s back and Mars turns slightly to better display you to his brother. He knows that Papyrus’s eyesight worsened during the famine and he needs to ask you about glasses. Mars just hopes that he actually remembers it.

Papyrus clears his throat. “HUMAN, ARE YOU READY FOR THE SURPRISE?”

“Absolutely,” you reply, voice muffled in the fabric of his hoodie.

“THEN BEHOLD THE SPLENDOR BEFORE YOU!”

* * *

You lift your head from Mars’s shoulder, mouth falling open at the sight spread before you. The room that once functioned as a game room has been fully transformed into a pillow paradise. Blankets and pillows cover every inch of the room, some stacked in such a way as to allow for soft blankets to be stretched above the ground. Lining the edges of the room are more pillows, creating a sort of buffering wall. You can’t be sure from here, a lot is obscured by hanging curtains and blankets, but you’re pretty sure some of the pillows are straight up floating. You aren’t exactly sure how they managed it, some of the structures they’ve created seem to defy the laws of physics (you always leap to the assumption of magic when such gravity-defying stunts are pulled), but they have created the largest and most fortified pillow fortress that you’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing.

“I SEE YOU ARE RENDERED SPEECHLESS!” Jupiter declares after several long moments where you don’t react. He coughs into his fist, sockets darting to and from you as the nerves set in. He doesn’t think it’s possible, it shouldn’t be, but maybe, just maybe, you don’t like it? “I CAN UNDERSTAND SUCH SPEECHLESSNESS; YOU ARE DOUBTLESS AWESTRUCK BY THIS GREAT AND MAGNIFICENT MASTERPIECE--”

“It’s really cool, Jupiter,” you say, interrupting him as you catch the rising pitch of his voice. You can barely force yourself to tear your gaze from it, but you do, looking at Jupiter. He’s taken aback by the sparkle and excitement in your gaze. “Seriously, you are too cool!”

Jupiter feels his face heat up in response, even as Sans gives a hum of agreement. “W-WELL, YOU CERTAINLY HAVE AN EYE FOR QUALITY, HUMAN! AS SUCH, I FEEL IT IS MY DUTY TO ALLOW YOU TO INSPECT THE FORT!”

You look startled. “I can already tell that it’s perfect already.”

“NYEH, WELL THAT IS KIND OF YOU TO SAY, HUMAN, BUT PERFECTION IS NOT POSSIBLE. I SHOULD KNOW, I AM THE CLOSEST THING TO IT. HOWEVER, FROM HERE YOU CANNOT GRASP THE FINER DETAILS OF THE FORT: THE STRUCTURAL INTEGRITY, THE QUALITY OF THE MATERIALS, THE SOFTNESS OF THE PILLOWS AND BLANKETS--”

You laugh, holding up your hands in protest. They brush against Mars’s shoulders. “Alright then, I see that I underestimated the role of investigator. Where should I begin?”

Jupiter is struck for a moment with how adorable you are, snuggled into Sans’s ratty hoodie and laughing. Speaking of…

Jupiter strides forward, scooping you off his brother’s back into his arms. You squeak, but move willingly into his embrace. He holds you absolutely effortlessly in a princess carry, but you don’t have a chance to contemplate that before he’s moving into the pillow fort. With his height, you thought he would have issues with maneuvering around, but Jupiter is far more nimble than you thought. He clutches you close and your wind your fingers into his scarf, holding on as he navigates into the center of the fort.

There are lights throughout, magic you assume, that brighten up the space and cast a soft glow on the pillows and blankets. It feels safe in here, which you’re sure is why it appeals so much to Mars and Jupiter.

You arrive in a central location, more open than the rest with the blankets rising higher than they do in the other parts of the fort. It reminds you a bit of a circus big tent, with the center peak from which the tent flows. The lights in this area float around lazily and you stare, mesmerized. 

Jupiter takes a seat in a cross-legged position, but he doesn’t let you down.

“bro, doesn’t the kid need to test the quality and softness?” Sans asks, lumbering into the center room as well.

“YES,” Jupiter says, grip tightening on you for a moment. “YES,” he repeats in a softer tone, before setting you down. You sink into the plush cushions and blankets. “WELL HUMAN, HOW IS IT?”

You throw yourself back into the pillows, snuggling down into them. You close your eyes for a moment, luxuriating in the warmth and peace around you. “Sorry Jupiter, I’m going to have to disagree with you.” You open your eyes to peer up at the brothers. “I’m afraid that this  _ is _ perfect.”

“NYEH,” Jupiter says, cheekbones flushing. “I’M NOT SO SURE--”

“Here,” you say, reaching out and grabbing his hand, pulling on it. 

If he wanted to resist, there is nothing you could have done to prevent him; he is far larger and physically stronger than you. But he doesn’t want to resist. He moves willingly, falling beside you into the pillows. Your face is close to his and, this close, he can  _ see _ your smile, the small lines that appear on your face as your mouth stretches in a grin. It’s a smile you’re offering him, the lines and wrinkles are there for  _ his _ sake, and Jupiter doesn’t know what to do with that information.

“So?” you ask, looking at him expectantly.

“WHAT?” he replies, staring back at you. In his periphery, he sees Sans amble over to your other side and flop down with a satisfied look. “WHAT IS IT?”

“How is it?” you ask with eagerness coating your tone. “Is it perfect?”

Jupiter stares back at you, looking deep into your eyes. Two realizations strike him, separate but intertwined. The first is that he doesn’t want to leave; he doesn’t want to return to the Famine. Yes, he was relieved the moment he and Sans escaped to the Surface, but Jupiter was resigned to his fate. He will survive. But now...he’s determined not to return. The second realization is that he’s found his home. It’s here, with Sans...and with you. Here, in the sanctity of this house and this fort, with his two favorite people. He doesn’t want this moment to end.

Jupiter doesn’t want to leave you.

“YES, Y/N, IT IS.”


	15. Chapter 15

“ARE YOU WELL, Y/N?”

You lift your head from your hands, catching sight of Blue regarding you with concern. “I’m alright, Blue,” you say automatically. “Just a little frustrated.”

“I AM SORRY TO HEAR THAT; IS THERE ANYTHING I CAN DO TO ASSIST?” Blue asks as he takes a seat alongside you. He pauses, brow furrowing as he glances around you. “WHERE IS THAT INCESSANT SOUND COMING FROM?”

“That would be the source of my frustration,” you reply, waving your phone at Blue. You’ve been on hold for nearly ten minutes now so you just put it on speakerphone as you searched for any answers you could find online.“That’s the hold music for the Embassy.”

“THAT TWO-TONE CACOPHONY HARDLY QUALIFIES AS A DITTY, LET ALONE MUSIC,” Blue scoffs, glaring at your phone. “WHY ARE YOU REACHING OUT TO THE EMBASSY?”

You scratch your cheek, looking at Blue. He doesn’t  _ sound _ suspicious, but you do get the feeling that his intent sharpened the moment you mentioned the Embassy. You guess you can see why; you’re barely his acquaintance/roommate and you know the secret of his existence in this universe, a secret that could spark a fire in the friction between monsters and humans. So, you don’t hold it against him.

“I’m hoping to get some information for Mars and Jupiter,” you say. “As you know, I drove Red and Coal into town to register at the Embassy. Mars and Jupiter need that registration too and I wanted to see what type of medical care is covered.”

“AH,” Blue says, smile flattening. “THAT MAKES SENSE.”

“Yep,” you reply, glancing down over your notes. “Jupiter needs to receive dental care and probably needs to get his eyes checked at the optometrist. Mars should probably see a neurologist, maybe go through treatment for a TBI?”

“TBI?”

“Traumatic brain injury,” you clarify. “And, if they’re willing, mental health care would not be amiss. Do you know what services are covered?”

“ALL MONSTER HEALTH CARE IS COVERED BY THE EMBASSY, EVEN SPECIALIZED CARE. TRUTHFULLY, EVERY CASE IS HIGHLY SPECIALIZED BECAUSE THE PHYSIOLOGY OF EACH MONSTER DIFFERS DRASTICALLY,” Blue says. “MENTAL HEALTH CARE SERVICES ARE ALSO COVERED; PAPY AND I ARE BOTH IN THERAPY.”

You smile at him, impressed as always by the lack of stigma regarding mental health services in monster culture. “I am too,” you say.

Blue glances between you and the phone which still plays those discordant two tones. “ARE THERE ANY OTHER QUESTIONS YOU NEED ANSWERED? I HAVE MOONLIGHTED AS A CONSULTANT FOR THE EMBASSY ON THEIR POLICIES.”

“Another job?” you say lightly. “How ever do you find the time?”

“I LIKE TO KEEP BUSY!” Blue says proudly, eyelights shifting the stars. “IF I CAN LEND A HELPING HAND TO ANYONE, I ALWAYS DO.”

“That’s fantastic,” you say warmly, hearing the honesty and passion in his voice. “But really, when do you find time to sleep?”

Blue laughs at that, shaking his head. “I DON’T SLEEP MUCH,” he admits. “I USED TO SLEEP QUITE A BIT WHEN I WAS A BABYBONES AND UP THROUGH MY ADOLESCENCE, BUT I TRAINED MYSELF OUT OF IT.” Blue hums, looking again at your phone. “SO?”

You end the call, smiling at him. “Let me get Mars and Jupiter; I’m sure they have questions too.”

* * *

“WILL YOU BE JOINING US, Y/N?” Jupiter asks after you explain the situation to him.

“Absolutely,” you reply warmly, sensing his unease. “I’m from a town really close to New Home, I can show you around the best joints after we get all the adulting out of the way.” You pause, brow furrowing as you glance at the clock. “Though we won’t be able to go into the Embassy today; it’ll be closed by the time we get to New Home.”

“WE COULD ALWAYS TAKE A SHORTCUT!” Blue declares. “I AM QUITE ACCURATE WITH THEM.”

“A shortcut,” you say flatly, a frisson of... _ something _ trailing up your spine. While your first and only experience with shortcuts was unpleasant, it brought you, just for a moment, closer to your sister. “Can you use them over long distances?”

“ABSOLUTELY!” Blue says, stars in his sockets. “I WAS A BIT LIMITED UNDERGROUND AS FAR AS DISTANCES GO; BUT ON THE SURFACE MY RECORD IS 1,819 MILES.”

“That’s really impressive,” you say. “And so convenient.”

“YES. AND MY RECOVERY TIME IS ABOUT AN HOUR SO REALLY I CAN TRAVEL JUST ABOUT ANYWHERE ON THE SURFACE IN A SINGLE DAY,” Blue says.

You think about all the travel you’ve done; the tedious TSA lines, the long layovers, and the even longer flights. A way to circumvent it sounds absolutely luxurious.

“IT IS A SIMPLE MATTER TO TRAVEL TO NEW HOME AND I AM MORE THAN CAPABLE OF FERRYING ALL THREE OF YOU THERE,” Blue says.

“That sounds amazing,” you say, glancing to Mars and Jupiter. “You in?”

Mars chuckles. “i’m all about convenience.”

“IT WOULD BE GREAT TO REGISTER TODAY SO WE CAN RECEIVE ACCESS TO THE CARE PROVIDED,” Jupiter says. “WE WOULD NOT PUT YOU OUT, BLUE?”

“NOT IN THE LEAST!” Blue replies. “I AM QUITE CAPABLE.”

“That would be fantastic, Blue!” you say, clasping your hands together. “Seriously, we can get this taken care of today. Thank you, Blue.”

“OF COURSE!” Blue says, a pale blue glow lighting his cheekbones. “IT--WELL, I AM HONOR BOND TO ASSIST THOSE IN ANY WAY I AM CAPABLE.” His eyelights brighten in intensity. “AND I AM QUITE CAPABLE IN MANY REGARDS!”

“we talking about capability? sweetheart, ya know i’m capable of fulfilling  _ all _ your needs,” Red says, sauntering into the room and dropping into the seat beside you. He gives you a lascivious wink, running a glowing red tongue over his teeth.

You roll your eyes. “Blue has me covered, thanks.”

You miss the way Blue’s sockets go wide, his eyelights shrinking in size as his flush deepens.

“damn,” Red says, snapping his fingers. “what’s he giving ya a hand with?” 

“WE’RE GOING INTO NEW HOME TO PROCURE REGISTRATION FOR MARS AND JUPITER!” Blue says. “I OFFERED MY SHORTCUTTING SERVICES.”

Red’s grin drops away. “shortcutting?” He looks at you and you squirm a little, but refuse to break eye contact. You aren’t hiding anything nor do you feel guilty. “ya sure that’s the best idea?”

“IT’S QUITE SAFE!” Blue protests. “I HAVE NEVER LOST A PASSENGER!”

“i’m not doubting yer skills,” Red replies, crossing his arms as he glares at you. “danger had a bit of an adverse reaction to their last brush with shortcutting.”

Everyone turns to you.

“Y/N?” Blue says. “WHAT HAPPENED?”

“bad experience with the void,” Red says. “it tried to pull them away from me.”

From what you remember, it  _ did _ for a moment. And in that moment…

Your sister.

“you can’t go,” Mars says.

You frown at him, not caring for his authoritative tone. “Mars,” you say.

He frowns in turn, fingers lifting to dig into his eye socket. “that didn’t come out how i meant it,” he says, gripping the socket tightly. “give me a moment.” You do so, knowing that his injury makes things difficult for him. It takes him a few moments, his fingers tapping along his socket as he tries to order his thoughts. Finally, he looks up at you, the glaze across his eyelight fading as he looks at you. “please don’t go. void magic is...well, it shouldn’t be messed with. please don’t risk yourself like that.”

You meet his gaze, wavering in the face of his sincere concern. He stares up at you with such feeling in his eye...It’s basically a puppy dog look.

And, honestly, you can’t resist it.

You sigh, giving Red a glare. “Fine. I won’t go.”

“just looking out for ya, babe,” Red says, completely unrepentant. “don’t wanna lose my chance to hold ya.”

“DON’T FRET TOO MUCH, Y/N!” Blue says. “I’D BE MORE THAN HAPPY TO TRANSPORT YOU WHERE YOU NEED TO GO BY OTHER MEANS!”

You quirk a brow. “Such as?”

“WELL, MAGIC IS A GIVEN,” Blue says. “I’M ALSO VERY STRONG; I CAN BENCH PRESS THE ENTIRE DOG GUARD! I’D BE MORE THAN HAPPY TO CARRY YOU WHERE YOU NEED TO BE.”

You nod, smiling a bit in the face of his enthusiasm. “I’ll have to take you up on that sometime.”

“I CAN PENCIL IT INTO MY TRAINING REGIMEN. IT WOULD BE USEFUL TO ME TOO FOR RESISTANCE TRAINING!” Blue says, standing from the table. “FOR THE TIME BEING, WE SHOULD GET GOING, JUPITER AND MARS. WE’LL SECURE YOUR REGISTRATION AND START LOOKING INTO THE SERVICES YOU NEED!”

They nod, Jupiter pausing beside you. He places a hand on your shoulder, smiling down at you. “ALL WILL BE WELL, HUMAN. I AM SAD YOU WON’T BE ABLE TO JOIN US THIS EVENING, BUT YOUR SAFETY IS THE PRIORITY! I WILL COOK YOU A DELICIOUS MEAL WHEN WE RETURN!”

“Sounds good, Jupiter,” you reply, grinning at him. “Have fun with the paperwork.”

“I EXCEL AT PAPERWORK!” Jupiter declares, patting your shoulder before joining Blue.

“sorry,” Mars whispers. “wasn’t trying to tell you what to do.”

You stand up, wrapping him in a hug. “Thank you, Mars.” His arms come up and tentatively embrace you in turn. “I know you didn’t mean it. But thank you for explaining what you actually meant.”

“course,” Mars says. “try not to get into too much trouble while we’re gone.”

You snort, waving them off as Blue engages his void magic. All the hairs on your neck and arms stand up on end as you watch them wink out of existence.

The moment they’re gone you slump down onto the table.

A hand rubs across your back.

“Not in the mood, Red,” you say.

“not tryin’ to start nothing,” Red says. “i wasn’t trying to rain on yer parade; i just didn’t want ya to get hurt.”

“Yeah,” you reply, voice muffled in the cradle of your arms. “I know.”

Red continues to pet along your back, lulling you into a state of relaxation. Your spine tingles as Red draws circles from your neck all the way down your back and your eyes slide shut. Your thoughts begin to scatter as you drift off to sleep.

You wake ever so slightly as warmth encompasses you. You blink blearily, catching a streak of glowing red and the affectionate growl of “trouble.”

_ Red _ .

You smile, snuggling closer.

You know you’re safe.

* * *

Marsh’s eyelights track you as you climb into your car, heading into town to meet a friend. He feels his SOUL quake a bit at the sight of you leaving  him . He knows he’s fragile (single HP and all, one good hit would end him-- has ended him ), but this is just ridiculous. You aren’t his SOULmate (even though the very  _ thought _ of that truth threatens to crack his SOUL), hell, he doubts you even consider him as a  _ friend _ .

He’s noticed your reticence around him, your muted personality around him. It’s subtle, but he’s made a habit (a terribly creepy habit he  _ knows _ but he cannot bring himself to stop) of watching you for the past few years; he  _ knows _ what you’re like when you are comfortable and in your element.

And around him? You’re on edge.

It just about dusts him to see it, especially considering how easily you’ve fallen in with those versions of Papyrus and him from other universes. And yes, Papyrus,  _ his _ Papyrus, is the coolest, but the others?

Well, based on their stats, those who aren’t Blue or Stretch are violent beasts.

He doesn’t trust them.

He knows himself far too well; he knows he’s an absolute irredeemable bastard (therapy is teaching him all sorts of  _ lovely _ things about himself) when it comes down to it and trusting the other hims, the  _ violent _ hims, with you? Out of the question.

And he’s introspective enough to realize that he’s biased where you’re concerned, that he’s jealous, but he doesn’t care. He knows full well that everyone acts with bias, it happens in science and it happens in Judgment; as long as he’s aware…

Well, it probably won’t change too much when it comes to you.

He would do anything to keep you safe.

Even from himself (himselves?).

He turns away from the window, squaring his shoulders as he leaves his bedroom. He knows that Mars will be downstairs, hiding out in his basement room (no doubt sulking over the fact that you’ve left) and that Red is probably lazing around his bedroom. Marsh would bet money that Coal and Papyrus are out on patrol, taking Jupiter with them.

Which is perfect, he really only wants to talk to Mars and Red.

Marsh knows they’ll doubtless be evasive just like him, but he feels better about grilling himself rather than an alternate version of his brother.

(He can’t bring himself to look at Jupiter; of all the Papyri, he looks the  _ most _ like Papyrus and the thought of his brother suffering like that…)

Well, in any case, he’ll talk to Red and Mars.

He goes after Red first, shortcutting into his bedroom. Red’s snores immediately cut off as Marsh’s magic permeates the room, but he doesn’t move further. Marsh can feel the sharpness of Red’s Intent and magic, prickling over his every sense. Marsh’s spine tingles as his magic roils within him, wanting to rise to Red’s challenge...

But that isn’t why he’s here.

“sup,” Marsh says.

Red rolls over in bed, the glow of his eyelights glaring into Marsh. “mistook ya for ivy; what with ya  _ creeping _ everywhere.”

Marsh stiffens at the comment, catching his underlying meaning. It could be innocuous, but Marsh knows better. Marsh knows Red’s observant, he’s picked up on Marsh’s one-sided history with you. 

“thought that’d be you,” Marsh replies. “what with the way you  _ cling _ . hope you aren’t of the poisonous variety.”

“ _ that’s _ why you’re here,” Red says, grunting as he sits up in bed. “ya worried about my stats, vanilla?”

Marsh shucks his hands in his pockets, sockets creasing with distaste at the nickname. “mighty high love there, bud. far too dust-thirsty for my palate.”

“what? ya got a weak stomach or something, powderpuff?” Red asks, baring a sharp smile. “got more refined tastes?”

“yeah, i do,” Marsh says.

Red’s smile drops away into a frown. “too bad they don’t find you tasteful in return.”

Marsh freezes, the grip on his magic loosening for but a moment. The temperature in the room drops fifteen degrees and Marsh can feel that his sockets have gone dark. “you don’t know shit.”

Red chuckles. “i know a helluva a lot more than ya think, snow _ fake _ . they’re uncomfortable around ya. can’t stand to be alone in the room with ya. and who can blame them? it’s your fault that their sister is gone.” Red’s eyelights go soft and Marsh  _ hates  _ it. “they’ve got too big a soul to despise ya, but it’s a close thing.”

Marsh exhales deeply through his nasal cavity, shaking his head. He can feel the rage bubbling within him, but he tries to calm it. He is the master of his emotions, not the other way around. (Though the truth in Red’s words threatens to overwhelm his SOUL.) “we’re getting sidetracked here. why is your love so high?”

Red stares at him in return, mouth turning down at the corners. “that’s the reality of my timeline. violence is the norm. i’m sure ya noticed that boss’s love is high too.”

“yeah,” Marsh says, discomfited by the idea of his brother having a high level of violence.

“had to be to survive,” Red says. “boss did what he could to protect others as captain of the guard but it was a monster dust monster world. we survived.”

Marsh’s eyelight snaps with blue and yellow as he assesses Red. “high exp too.”

Red stands from the bed, glaring down at Marsh. “we  _ survived _ .”

“and now?” Marsh says.

_ Are you a threat to Y/N? _ lingers between them.

Red holds Marsh’s gaze fearlessly, increasing the weight of his magic for just a moment and Marsh is left breathless. Then it eases away entirely as he shrugs, breaking eye contact. “i don’t know. now we learn how to live.”

Marsh’s mouth twists. “you know that wasn’t what i was asking.”

“then ask it directly, shortstack,” Red replies.

Marsh  _ hates _ being direct; innuendo and subterfuge are his modus operandi. But for you? He’s willing to try. “how does y/n factor into this? will you harm them?” Marsh asks.

“no,” Red says. “i won’t hurt trouble. boss sure as hell won’t; he’d dust before that. they are…” Red trails off, eyelights dilating. “they’re something else. no idea how they factor into our lives, all i know is we want to keep `em around.”

“i don’t trust you,” Marsh says.

Red barks out a laugh. “feeling’s mutual, vanilla. but you don’t care about that. ya sure care about  _ their _ opinion though.”

Marsh glares at Red, magic crackling for a moment as his frustration grows before he shortcuts away from the conversation and the truth Red so happily espouses.

He reappears within the basement, outside Mars and Jupiter’s bedroom. Marsh is aware just how on edge they are and he would prefer not to end up in an Encounter just because he spooked Mars. He knows you would be upset. Marsh knocks on the doorframe.

“yeah?”

“knock knock,” Marsh says.

“marsh,” Mars says, tone neutral. Marsh cannot see his face, but he imagines that there is distaste or distain across his features. “come in i guess.”

“that’s not how the routine goes,” Marsh says as he nevertheless opens the door.

Mars is seated on an oversized bean bag chair which looks diminutive beneath him. The room he shares with Jupiter is sparsely decorated, but all the belongings that Marsh sees were bought by you. These purchases were bought with his money which leaves him feeling torn. He’s glad that you are using his money, that he’s indirectly providing for you. But the fact that you’re using it on Mars and Jupiter makes him dissatisfied. He doubts you’ve spent anything on yourself; you are far too honorable to do so.

“not much for routines at this point,” Mars says, gesturing lazily to his skull. “don’t have the  _ mind _ for it.”

“huh,” Marsh says, refusing to shift in his discomfort.

An awkward silence falls between them for several moments as Mars’s eyelights glaze over. Marsh stares at him, taking in Mars. Mars is large, more than twice Marsh’s own size. His canines are sharper, his structure just entirely more weighty. Marsh’s eyelight shifts as he Judges Marsh. As he thought, Mars’s love and EXP are astronomically high.

His EXP is even higher than Frisk’s in a genocide run.

There is no way that Mars is safe to be around, he isn’t safe for  _ you _ .

Marsh hates him, hates the fact that their nicknames are so close: Marsh and Mars, Mars and Marsh. So close to being interchangeable. And from entirely too close universes.

Marsh despises it all.

Marsh finally clears his throat and Mars startles.

“what?” Mars says. “oh, right. why are you here, marsh?”

“you know why.”

Mars chuckles, shutting his sockets. “you’re paranoid.”

“and you aren’t?”

“when i have to be,” Mars replies. “when it threatens my survival.”

“what type of universe do you have to come from for you to get such high love?” Marsh asks. “you go around dusting every monster you saw?”

“wasn’t like that,” Mars says, slouching a bit into his seat. If Marsh didn’t know any better, he would think that Mars was in pain. “was survival.”

“whatever helps you sleep at night,” Marsh scoffs.

“you don’t know shit,” Mars says, voice rising ever so slightly. “ a fallen human killed the king, leaving the underground in ruin. everyone was starving; people were dusting left and right. i did what was necessary to survive.”

Marsh stops, SOUL thumping hard. “did you--you  _ ate _ them.”

Mars glares down at Marsh, still taller than Marsh even in a seated position. “i did what was necessary to survive.”

Marsh falls back a step before firming his stance. “you ate other monsters.” But that doesn’t explain how high his EXP is. “you ate  _ humans _ .”

Mars does not say a word, his hand lodged firmly in his eye socket.

“do they know?” Marsh asks.

“they know,” Mars says, his expression shifting to awe. “they did not mind.”

“ **w h a t** ?”

“they understood,” Mars says, shifting slowly in the bean bag. “they knew it was a matter of survival. similar things happen here on the surface: the donner party, the uruguay rugby team in the andes, jamestown. people do the unthinkable when under unthinkable circumstances.”

“i don’t trust you,” Marsh bites out.

Mars finally stands, glaring down at Marsh. “i don’t care. they trust me. that’s all i need.”

Marsh’s eyelights wink out. “if you dare betray that trust…”

“you look at me and see an animal,” Mars says. “i don’t mind.” He bends at the waist, bringing himself down to Marsh’s eye level. “they are a good person. i trust them, despite the fact that such trust was a luxury underground. rest assured, i will not bite the hand that feeds me.”

So saying, Mars shoulders past Marsh, heading up the stairs.

And Marsh is left behind, with a strange, hollow ache in his SOUL.


End file.
